


Someone at Oxford

by peacenik0



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Male Character, Cunnilingus, Earrings, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other, Oxford, POV Fox Mulder, POV Original Character, Pre-X-Files, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Romantic Friendship, Scotland, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacenik0/pseuds/peacenik0
Summary: While at Oxford University, a young Fox Mulder struggles to define himself and his relationships.The Final Chapter is here!





	1. August

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CultureisDarkBeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultureisDarkBeer/gifts), [msrafterdark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msrafterdark/gifts).



A/N: canonically Mulder attended oxford from 1983-1986, and graduated with a BA in psychology before being recruited by the FBI. There are some issues with this due to the fact that psych is a BS, and most people from the states go to oxford to work on a graduate degree. MULDER likely graduated high school in 1979, leaving 4 years of unknown activity before going to oxford. Being that Mulder is a driven intellectual, and that he comes from an upper class new England family; it’s unlikely he would not have been in school during this period. For the purposes of this story, we will assume he got his BS in the states before going to Oxford to work on a graduate degree.

\---  
Chapter 1  
Oxford, England  
March 1984

Fox Mulder and his roommate August Drake walk Bonn Square as they head towards the ancient stony peaks of Oxford castle. The excitement of an unknown adventure prickles enticingly over his skin. A striking smile passes over his friend’s well-formed features, leaving him with no choice but to smile back. Fox Mulder doesn’t like a lot of people, but he likes August. 

“I’ve read all about the history of the castle,” he says pausing to push his horn-rimmed glasses up his long nose. “And I think you are going to be sufficiently spooked.” His voice sounds almost squeaky with glee. He just can’t help himself.

“Oy, I can’t believe I let you talk me into going ghost hunting with you,” August replies, a hint of mock exasperation filtrating his British baritone. The late afternoon sun casts a golden hue over the younger man’s tawny curls and warm brown eyes. A glow of sorts. “You are rather persuasive when you want to be.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he nudges his roommates ribs.

“Just so you know, I am giving up my precious training time at the sweaty gym for you.” August says, miming the back and forth pull of the rowing machine. His hard won muscles are firm and well defined. Fox has always admired his roommate’s strength and athleticism, the way they are equally matched in all things sports related.

“Yeah, yeah and you won’t let me forget it, either,” he smirks. “But I promise you this will be a lot more exciting than a few sessions on the ergs.” 

The cobblestone path narrows to a single lane, moving them closer together. Dusk settles all around them, bringing with it a different mood entirely. Now he can see the castle tower and turrets. The stone walls glowing eerily in the evening mist.

“Here we are, at the point of no return,” August’s tone takes on the exact likeness of a BBC sports announcer, and it makes him chuckle.

“It’s almost like a scary movie.” Mulder’s words seem to dissipate into the chilly March air as he reaches for his flashlight. Yet, he doesn’t feel even a hint of fear, instead only a overflowing sense of curiosity. There has always been a kind of passionate inquisitiveness burning deep within him, a longing to bring the unknown out of the darkness.

“Didn’t you say that Phoebe would be joining us?” August asks, his tone changing from jovial to apprehensive. The mention of his not-quite-girlfriend’s name brings a love-sick smile to his face. Beautiful and brilliant, Phoebe Green cast a spell on him from the moment he first saw her in the Behavioral Science section of the library.

“Not tonight,” he pauses lost in thought. His mind flashes back to their most recent encounter. The rush of excitement he felt when she pulled him behind the stacks. His eagerness to pleasure her. The way she had patted his head like a puppy when she was finished. Clearing his throat, August brings him back to the present. “She had another meeting with Professor Royston.”

“Oh, hmm.” August strokes his dimpled chin in thought. “She sure does spend a lot of time with him, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, he’s acting as her advisor for her behavioral science project.“ He casually explaines, ignoring the niggling doubts that begin to worm their way around his heart.”Why?”

“No reason, just a curiosity of mine.” August says, straightening out his new leather jacket. “Did you enjoy your supper, mate?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Fox says. “You didn’t have to pay though.” 

“Nonsense,” he waves a hand into the air. “You know my grandfather sends me a check every month. I am his favorite grandson afterall.”

“I shudder to think of who I would find lining the boughs of the Drake family tree,” Mulder says with a wry smirk. “Besides, aren’t you his only grandson?”

“I am in the fortunate position of being the only male heir in my family.” By the tone of his voice, Mulder isn’t so sure August feels that fortunate. His expression is thoughtful, pensive almost. “I have no siblings, and the rest of the Drakes bred themselves out of existence or drank themselves to death, I’m afraid.” 

“Ooof, sounds like your family has had a rough go of it.” He claps his friend on the shoulder. His expression lightens a bit.

“Ah, well, you know what they say about only children…” 

“Unfortunately we have that in common,” he pauses, an image of his sister Samantha populates in his mind. “I guess I’m an only child, too,” he says. The painful memories of Samantha being taken right in front of him, overtake his body, making his chest feel tight.

“Are you okay, mate?” he asks, a concerned look on his face. Part of him wants to tell August the story of Samantha’s disappearance. But Fox doesn’t yet feel ready to divulge that painful part of himself yet.

“Yeah,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just felt a little dizzy, but it’s passed now.” Taking a deep breath, he soldiers on. “Let’s check this place out.” 

“Okay,” His roommate pats him gently on the back. There is a modern addition built on the side of the castle, and Fox figures this is the best point of entry. Darkness falls.

“Are you sure that we’re allowed to be in here?” August asks, a hint of fear in his voice. “Do you really think we’ll see a ghost?”

“Of course we aren’t supposed to be here, but that’s part of the fun.” He says, feeling the exhilaration of the unknown ahead. “And the ghost of which you refer to is one Mary Blandy. According to local lore; in Seventeen Fifty-Two she was hung to death right over there…” Fox aims his flashlight at a castle mound.

“But wasn’t it unusual to hang a woman in those days?” August asks as they reach the door.

“Ahh, it was, but this was an usual case. Mary was convicted of the crime of parricide.” He pauses to inspect the lock on the door. “Anyway, legend has it, that she poisoned her father with arsenic after he disapproved of her marriage.”

“Ahh… a murderess. I must admit your ghost story has piqued my interest.” August says, showing his own morbid curiosity. 

“Now that is why we’re friends, Aug.” It’s nice to have someone whom he can share this part of himself with. “We both love a good ghost story.”

“How do you ‘spose we’re going to get in here, you got a magic key or something?”

“No…” Mulder places his flashlight in his mouth, and as he shuffles around in his pocket. August gives him a pervy look. 

“What?” He mumbles around the flashlight. 

“Oh nothing, it's a good look for you. A little torch in the mouth never hurt anyone.” Pulling the cylindrical column out of Fox’s mouth, he waggles his eyebrows. 

“Alright, alright…aha!” He shouts producing a lock pick kit. “We’re going to break in.” 

“Oooh,” August clicks his tongue. “Dangerous… possibly stupid, but definitely dangerous.” After a few jostles of the lock, the door eerily creeks open. 

“This castle is over seven hundred years old, so who knows what kind of other ghosts or apparitions we might see here.” Fox says, with a bit of glee in his voice. 

“Didn’t they do a seance here about ten years ago?” August asks. “I think I remember my mum reading about it in the papers.”

“Good memory,” he says. A cold feeling settles over his body, making the hair stand up on his neck. Beside him, his roommate steps closer, and grasps onto his forearm. “Visitors to the castle said they heard the sounds of crashing plates, and disembodied voices. Some even claim to have been physically assaulted by an unseen presence.” 

“Oh, that’s quite frightening.” August gulps. “I may need something to calm my nerves.” He says removing a silver flask from his pocket. After taking a sip, he passes the vessel to Fox.

“Thanks, Aug.” The whiskey burns pleasantly as he takes a long swallow. “That’s some high class Scotch.”

“Only the best for the Drake family.” He smirks. “Our family crest is a Lion stirring a tub of corn mash on one side, and a cirrious spotted liver on the other.” 

“Ooof, “ He spits out a genuine laugh. Despite his retort, he is glad for August’s wry sense of humor. Especially at a time like this. Taking another long pull of whiskey, before passing it back to his friend. Their fingers accidentally brush together. In the dark, his roommate gives him an inscrutable look before pocketing the vessel in his pants pocket.

All of a sudden a loud clanging sound thunders overhead, causing August to jump and hide behind him.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Ghosts.” His voice holds a hint of mirth. Another banging sound comes from overhead, August whimpers and wraps his arms around his waist. Fox sucks in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the pleasant tingle of August’s touch.

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“If anything decides to attack us,” August presses his face between his shoulder blades and breathes deeply.“They’ll have to go through you first before they can get to me.” 

“Haha,” he pushes his friend playfully away.

When a white billowy figure appears ahead of them August screams and throws himself into Fox’s arms. Instinctually, he holds his frightened friend to his chest. Despite his fear, he notices that it feels good to have August’s solid weight pressed against him. He even likes the feeling of August’s nose burrowing into his neck. They stay that way for longer than they should.

“Are you okay?” Fox’s pats his back softly.

“Barely,” he begins slowly pulling away. “Remind me to never go ghost hunting with you again. Now let’s get the bloody hell out of here!”

\---

“You’re really going through with this then, mate?” August asks as they arrive in front of the tattoo shop located on the edge of town.

“Yeah,” Mulder pauses to push his glasses back in place. “Phoebe thinks I’d look edgier with an earring. I think it might have something to do with her crush on Billy Idol.”

“Ah, I had a feeling Phoebe was behind this impetuous decision.” In a way he’s right, she has a way of convincing him to do things that he wouldn’t normally do. “But just for the record, I think you look rather fit just the way you are.” 

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, and kicks at a stray stone. “I dunno, getting my ear pierced feels a little dangerous, maybe rebellious even. Plus my Dad will hate it, so that’s just an added bonus.”

“You couldn’t get me to mar this gloriously pasty British skin.” August brushes some imaginary dust off his shoulders and puffs out his muscular chest. “Especially not for a girl.”

“Yeah… yeah… not just any girl.” Sighing in the way of many a lovelorn collegiate has. Hoping that someday she’ll decide to take things with them a little more seriously. Maybe one day she’ll be as stuck on him as he is on her.

“Ah, yes…” A wry grin passes over his face. “She of the golden vagina.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles thoughtfully. “Something like that.” He and Phoebe don’t have sex very often, but when they do it’s fiery and all consuming. When he is with her; he feels alive, wanted. 

“Ah well,” A defeated sigh punctuates the crisp cool air. “It appears I cannot convince you otherwise.”

“But, at least you gave it a good college try.” He smirks, but finds himself focusing on the taxi that has just pulled up alongside the curb. Out steps Phoebe in a gray tweed overcoat, with a white blouse underneath. Her red hair cascades over her shoulders, she flashes him a heart stopping smile.

“Speak of the devil…” August mumbles under his breath, while scratching the back of his neck.

“Mulder!” Phoebe exclaims, pulling him into her red-hot embrace. Her kiss burns his lips, makes him want more. “Sorry I’m late,” she says, flashing him with a dazzling smile. “I had a scheduled meeting with Professor Royston, and I’m afraid it ran a little behind schedule.” For some reason he doesn’t think to ask why she had a meeting with the head of the Psychology department at eight o’clock on a Friday night. 

August clears his throat. “Hello, Phoebe.” His tone is polite, but not exactly friendly.

“August.” She says, barely glancing his way, instead focusing her attention on him.“Shall we.” A sharp elbow hooks into his, as she pulls him towards the door. 

“I’m going in.” He calls back to August. “Wish me luck.”

“You’re going to need all the luck you can get.” His friend intones, and there is something lingering there in the space between his words. Something that Fox Mulder is not quite ready to see.


	2. Kinsey

_‘Now onto Alfred Kinsey, his research has proved to be elemental in our modern understanding of human sexuality.’_

The professor drones in monotone from his lectern. Fox distractedly chews on his pen, looking around for his roommate. It’s ten minutes into the lecture and August is still nowhere to be found.

The heavy wooden doors of the lecture hall bang open. In strolls August, looking exhausted, but still put together. It probably didn’t occur to him to bring his book or notes to the lecture. He slides into the chair next to Fox, and rubs his eyes.

“You’re late,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” he stretches and yawns, showing off his impressive musculature. “For some reason I let someone convince me to go ghost hunting again last night,” he says looking pointedly at Fox. “So I’d say I’m rather exhausted this morning, no thanks to the likes of you.”

“Yeah, I am sorry the ghost hunting was a spectacular waste of time.” Fox chews on his pen thoughtfully, thinking of their fruitless search for the ghost of Banbury road. “In America we don’t exactly have haunted roads, I thought maybe local legend was on to something. Too bad we didn’t see much of anything.” He sighs in defeat.

“Well we saw enough to give me nightmares all night.” Leaning over into his personal space, August removes the pen from his mouth. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to crawl in bed with you.” The whisper sends a tingle down his spine. For some unknown reason, he imagines August crawling into his bed and wrapping his arms around him. He shakes his head to clear the intrusive image from his mind.

“Yeah, definitely lucky.” He mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

_‘You will be expected to write your essay based on his book Sexual Behavior in the Human Male.’_

The professor’s voice forces him to focus back on the lecture. He only studied Kinsey briefly when he was back in the states, and he finds himself eager to learn more about his work.

“Anyway, we need to pay attention to the lecture,” Fox resumes taking notes. “The essay is due on Monday.” 

“Fine,” his roommate pouts, before snagging the glasses right off of his face. Putting them on, he imitates Fox taking notes, with a sly grin.

_‘First developed the heterosexual to homosexual rating scale‘_

“Hey!” He grabs for his eyewear, but August ducks out of his reach.

“Oh, without these on, you look a little less like a bespectacled pirate.” He says with a teasing grin.

“Yeah, a bespectacled pirate that could kick your ass!” He fires back, pulling August into a playful headlock. 

“All right, all right,” August chuckles. “Mercy, don’t make me walk the plank!” 

Finally after all the ruckus, Professor Courtright looks up at them..

“Gentlemen,” the professor clears his throat loudly. “A question?” Courtright's steely eyes pierce through him. Heat rises up to his cheeks.

“N-no, Professor.” Fox says. “Not at this time.”

“Mmhm, very good. All inquiries ideally are to be addressed during office hours. Now, to continue...“

He glares at August. His friend merely shrugs and flashes a disarming smile. This is how August gets away with everything. 

“Don't be cross.” Reaching over, he brushes the unruly mop out of Fox’s eyes, and settles his glasses back in their proper place.“I'm just having a bit of fun.” It’s nearly impossible to stay mad at August for very long. 

Finally able to see the slides, he scribbles the last few notes. Just before he’s finished, the bells toll, signaling the end of the lecture. Gathering his books and notes, her hurries out of the lecture hall in a huff.

“Fox? What’s the rush?” August calls, running after him. 

“You know I needed those notes!” Fox says in frustration, crossing his arms. 

“I just want you to live a little, mate. You spend far too much time studying.” 

“Look, I know everything comes easy to you, but some of us have to work hard for everything we get.” When August tries to put a hand on Fox’s shoulder, he bats it away. A hurt look crosses his features. 

“I’m sorry, Fox, I just got a bit carried away.” His tone of voice is earnest, apologetic. “Forgive me?” Somehow his dark brown eyes are able to melt Fox’s anger away.

“Yeah… I just…” He kicks a stone tile with his leather shoes. “I can’t fail. You know how my father gets, he’ll be furious!” Bill Mulder would certainly chew his ass out if he got anything less than straight A’s. An empathetic look crosses his friend’s face.

“You won’t fail! You’ve got the highest marks in that class. You’re beyond brilliant, and everyone knows it.” His roomates words are like a balm to his spirit. His shoulders relax, making him feel lighter.

“Ahh,” Fox shuffles his feet. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Tell you what; let me make it up to you. We’ll go out for supper Friday afternoon, then we’ll go to the library to study.” A comforting hand comes to rest on his back. “Besides, you need a clever wordsmith, and I am just the man to help you with your composition.” His smooth tone and dimpled cheeks seem to melt Fox’s frustration away. August’s hand lingers on his back a little too long as they head into their flat. Fox lets him keep it there.

\---

“A personal best!” Fox pants heavily. The breeze from the erg machine fan does little to cool his heated body. After rowing for the last hour, his muscles are becoming sore. “But, you’ll have to wait til tomorrow to beat my record!”

“You only won this time, because you cheat!” August releases his grip on the handles. “But I suppose all Americans are cheaters, it’s in your very nature.” He gives Fox a teasing smile. For some reason he is transfixed by a drop of sweat clinging to August’s upper lip.

“Still bitter about the outcome of the Revolutionary war?” He smirks tossing a towel to his friend. “Let’s hit the showers, eh?” 

The two men enter the locker room, and gather their shower items. Out of the corner of his eye, Fox watches his roommate pull his sweaty shirt over his head. Feeling unable to stop himself from taking in the view of August’s toned torso. 

They step into side by side showers. The heat of the spray feels wonderful as it slides over his achy muscles. His ear twinges a bit as the water beats down on it. An image of August’s naked chest flashes into his mind unbidden. He shakes his head. Of course he’s noticed August’s fit and muscular body, they play sports together all the time. How could he not? There is a powerful grace to the way August moves that he really admires. Finishing up, he shuts the water off, and steps out of the shower at the same time as August.

“Lovely shower.” His naked roommate walks confidently ahead of him. “Always feels good after a go on the ergs, eh?” August turns towards him fully. His eyes flash down to see his roommate's cock. Lucky bastard is hung like a horse. It doesn’t seem strange to be looking at his friend’s notably impressive prick. Men always feel the need to compare themselves, don’t they? It’s a biological imperative. August catches his eye, and grins. 

“Yep” he clears his throat and looks away. “Especially after you get your ass kicked by yours truly.” Fox deflects.

Turning away to grab his glasses off of the bench, he feels it. 

SNAP! The familiar sting of a wet towel hitting his ass makes him jump.

“Aug!” He yells out in shock, flipping over to face his assailant. 

“Remember that the next time you decide to rub your victory in my face.” August teases, and playfully snaps the towel on Fox’s behind again. This time though, the stinging pain is followed by a wave of pleasure.

Bending down to grab his boxers, August’s prick hangs low between his muscular thighs. Fox shakes his head, not allowing himself to get distracted by comparisons. This is his chance to get revenge! Twisting a damp towel in the air: SNAP!

“Oy!” August calls out, quickly pulling up his underwear. “Serves me right for turning my back on you.” His laughter bounces off the walls. 

“And don’t forget it."

\---

It’s Friday night, and the two friends have been studying for hours. Despite their mutual exhaustion, the late hour has them both feeling punch drunk. 

“Ah, let’s get cracking with Freud. What were the parallels between his and Doctor Skinner’s findings?” August slinks behind him to lean against a tall bookshelf. They are now side by side, shoulders and hips touching.

“We’re on Kinsey now, Aug. See I knew you weren't paying attention.” Fox nudges August, but then returns his eyes to his book

“Right you are, mate.” August says, smiling. “You're the only reason I'm passing this class. Well, that and your photographic memory.”

“And don't you forget it.” A grin teases the corner of his lip.

Professor Courtright’s lecture on Alfred Kinsey, has given him a lot to think about over the last few days. Fox has always desired girls. He loves the softness of their bodies, the way they smell. The sounds they make. In fact his sexual relationship with Phoebe was so fiery that he often felt burned afterwards. Yet, something inside of him wonders if there is something more to his sexuality.

“Here, fetch that text.” His roommate seems to have gotten a second wind. “Yes. Second from the bottom.” August leans over him to retrieve it while Fox supports the rest of the pile. “See? Teamwork. We’re making headway already.” 

“Barely, at this rate we might need to pull an all nighter.” Fox says, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t see that as a problem,” August says. “We’ve been at this for hours, let’s take a break. “Here,” August pulls a silver flask out of his jeans pocket, and takes a swig. “To make the studying seem a little less burdensome.” He passes it to Fox.

“Yes, I’m sure this will help us understand the vast continuum of human sexuality.” Their fingers brush as Fox returns the flask. There is a crackle of energy between them, that he tries desperately to ignore. Something tells him that he has felt it before.

“Since we’re on the subject.” August pauses and looks down, as if he were gathering the courage to ask him something uncomfortable, something important. “Have you ever _been_ with a bloke?”

“Aug!” He says, shocked. He feels his body tightening uncomfortably. “Of course I haven’t!” 

“Oy, nothing to be get upset about.” He says patting Fox’s shoulder. “Just a curiosity of mine.” His voice becomes casual, soothing almost. Fox feels himself relax, unsure why he found the question so unsettling. 

“Sorry, your question just caught me off guard.” Fox says taking a swig of the flask. The wheels of his mind turn over and over. Suddenly, he finds himself wondering the same thing. “Have you ever been with another guy?” He asks, his voice soft. Almost as if he were afraid to hear the answer.

“Yes, I have.” There is a vulnerability in his voice.

“Oh…” His mouth opens and closes. He doesn’t feel surprised exactly, but he finds himself wanting to know more. ”When?” He asks, not understanding exactly why he is so interested.

“There were a few times when I was at public school with other lads in my house.” He pauses to take a swig, shifting closer into Fox's orbit. “And a few times here.”

“Oh, I see.” He pauses biting his lip. An image of August kissing another man populates in his mind unbidden. It makes him feel strange. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, it’s quite nice actually.” August says, his hand coming to rest on Fox’s thigh. More questions swirl in his head, but he doesn’t feel ready to ask them yet. “Have you ever even thought of it?” A long uncomfortable moment passes between them. 

“No. I haven’t thought of it.” His answer is supposed to be true, so why then does it feel like a lie? Something niggles at the back of his brain. 

“Hm. Bloody shame.” Their shoulders and hips are touching now. “Perhaps…” The look in his eyes sends a warm feeling over Fox's body. “Perhaps, you might give it a go sometime.”<

“I don’t know…” His conflicted thoughts and feelings bubble up in his stomach. August look’s at him under dark lashes, and bites his lip, making it red. It's as August is the Earth, and Fox is a satellite drawn inexplicably into his orbit. 

“Don’t humans learn by experience?” August asks leaning in towards him. 

“I suppose they do.” He whispers, lost in the warmth of August's tawny brown eyes. His roommate leans in closer, as though he were moving in to kiss him. The thought sends him into a spiral of self-loathing and panic. His hands reach up to August's chest, and he pushes him roughly away. How can he admit his desires to August, when he is not yet ready to admit them to himself? He tries not to notice the hurt look on August’s face.

“Uh...he clears his throat. “I just forgot that I’m supposed to meet up with professor Royston. I’ll see you later.”

**END CHAPTER 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this chapter, or have other things you want to bring to my attention or discuss, don't be afraid to hit the comments! I've been loving the discussion on this story thus far!


	3. Phoebe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NC-17. That is all.

As his feet hit the pavement of South Forks Road, he breathes hard into the thick spring air. The humidity settles heavily into his lungs, as he pushes forward into the gray twilight. His long legs carry him towards the psychology college, and his meeting with Professor Royston. Is he in any shape to discuss his grades? Looking at his watch, he realizes there is no time to reschedule now. At least he will have a little time to clear his head.

As he runs, images of the incident in the library burst in his mind. The strangeness of anticipation mingled with fear continue to linger as his breathes become faster. His body remembers the way his stomach went hard and then soft again as August breached the distance between them. Shaking his head, he pushes the thought away. _I’m not attracted to August,_ he says, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make it true. Besides, he’s in love with Phoebe, has been since he first saw her. For months, she was all he could ever think about. What changed? Guilt and confusion wrap their cold fists around his body and squeeze. 

For some reason August’s openness and vulnerability made him feel deeply uncomfortable. As though his words struck a some unknown chord deep within himself. He wasn’t used to anyone being so honest with him about their feelings. In his family, no one talked. Silence was seen as a strength, an ideal to aspire to. His parents made him acutely aware that his sensitive nature was liability, a part of himself to be hardened, or cut off.

“Stop crying,” Bill Mulder told him the night his sister was taken. “You need to toughen up and be a man.You’re making your mother upset.” Meanwhile, his mother wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

For weeks, Teena Mulder spat hateful angry words at his dad from behind closed doors, words that he couldn’t understand. Until finally his father hauled her off to some psychiatrist he knew. Dozens of drugs later, she seemed to float through life as if untethered. A few notches above comatose. After the divorce, she got worse. It was as though she could hollow herself out, kill every painful memory before it even surfaced. 

His father took to alcohol to numb himself, to cover up a secret that lay buried somewhere inside him. Every question Fox ever asked about his sister was met with a lie, or a thinly veiled obfuscation. The message was clear: the truth is not worth the pain that comes along with it.

His strides become harder, more jarring as he rounds the corner to the psychology building. He stops. His hands come to his knees and he lets out a shuddering breath, it makes him feel better.

In the hallway he hears the hushed tones of a man and a woman talking. Making his steps quiet, he listens. A familiar female laugh punctuates the stillness of the air, followed by the deep bass of a male response. As he peers around the corner, he sees only her profile, the sharp angle of her chin.

“Do you have a spare moment to review the analysis with me?” Phoebe asks, as if sharing a secret phrase, known only to them. The sheer intimacy of the moment knocks him back on his heels. Was August right about Phoebe and Royston? 

“Anything for you, my darling,” the older man answers in a tone sweeter than honey. A sensual smile graces Phoebe’s lips, as the professor pulls her in for a kiss. _I’m going to be sick,_ he thinks. Unable to help his gut reaction, he wretches loudly. The sound wrenches the couple apart. Fox’s eyes lock with Phoebe’s; there is not an ounce of regret in her expression. His heart breaks. How could she do this to him? 

“Fox!” She calls, but he can’t look at her. He needs to get out of there, and fast. Back to his flat, back to the safety of his only friend.

On the way into his flat, he catches a glimpse of himself in the glass window pane. He adjusts his glasses, and carefully touches the golden hoop in his ear. The one he got for Phoebe. Standing there, he wonders how badly it would hurt to rip it out right now. The moment he’s about to do it, August exits the door. 

“Fox?” he asks, a look of affectionate concern filling his warm brown eyes. “If this is about earlier, I’m sorry, I got a little carried away…” A flash of regret mars August’s fine features. Fox shakes his head slowly.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he says, gulping down his emotions. Just like his father taught him to. “On my way over to my meeting I ran into Phoebe…” Pausing, he looks down at his feet. His big toe throbs. “She was with Royston. They were…” Now he drifts off, and looks over at his roommate. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his tone earnest. “I know how much you cared for her.”

“No, no, you were right Aug. I guess I was too much of a fool to see what was really going on between them.” An image of Phoebe with professor Royston flashes into his mind, breaking the moment. His heart drops.

“No, you’re not a fool!” August exclaims. “She’s the one who is off snogging a man twice her age. If anything, she’s the one who's rather daft.”

“Hey!” His jaw tightens. “She’s not daft…” 

“Oy... I didn’t mean to step on your toes.” His strong hands move to rub the tension out of Fox’s shoulders, somehow relaxing him. “Look, you’re brilliant, clever, loyal. Phoebe doesn’t even have the slightest idea what she’s missing out on.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to say that though.” 

“I know, but I meant it.” August says warmly. Fox feels a surge of affection for his friend, making him feel even more confused than he was before. His freshly pierced ear twinges, bringing him back to the pain of new heartbreak. “I just wish I hadn’t gotten this stupid earring for her,” he says dejectedly. 

“I know what you need,” he nudges Fox with an elbow. “A night out at the pub with old Aug! Besides, nothing soothes a broken heart like a few pints.”

“I dunno...I don’t feel like going out, maybe forever.”

“I won’t allow you to drown alone in your self pity! Besides, you don’t want to miss a night out with your rakishly handsome flatmate.” He mimics brushing dust off his shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Fox smirks at him

\---

The faint sounds of drunken students fade into the background as the two of them walk slowly away from the Turf Tavern. Several hours of lukewarm pints have done him good. He feels almost optimistic as they turn onto New College Lane. A thick fog glows around the gas lantern street lamps that line the tiny deserted alley. It feels like something out of a Dickens novel, atmospheric, romantic, almost. 

“I’m sorry about Phoebe.” August says, stopping to turn towards him.“But, maybe it’s all for the best.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, wavering a bit under the weight of his drunkenness.

“I just think you deserve someone who will fancy you as much as you fancy them.” His companion says, looking down at his feet. 

 

“Thanks, Aug,” he pauses to haphazardly pat his companion’s back. “You’re a good friend.”

“You’re right, I am.” August punches him lightly in the shoulder.

The dizzying effects of the alcohol begin to take their toll on his body. Looking over at August, he can’t help but notice the way his skin becomes luminescent under the street lamps. Fox is so entranced by his companion, that he trips on a stray cobblestone. He feels himself falling, falling.

“Easy,” August says reaching out to steady him. His body buckles under the heavy weight of his drunkenness, and his conflicted emotions. “Easy there.” Fox thinks about the way August’s lilting tone sounds so nice this close to his ear. Almost involuntarily, his nose sinks into his friend’s firm shoulder. The smell of new leather and notes of jasmine permeate his senses. How does he always smell so good?

“There, there.” August strokes the back of his head tenderly, drawing pleasant tingles up his spine. 

“You’re good, “ Fox slurs placing both of his forearms on the younger man’s shoulders. They are close enough that he can smell the Scotch on August’s breath. It makes him lightheaded. “You’re so good to me.” A blush creeps up to August’s cheeks at his words.

“Eh, it’s nothing.” He says, looking at Fox through his long dark lashes. When their eyes settle back together the spark is so intense, even he cannot deny its existence. 

“No…” He says cupping August’s face in his hands. His mouth is pink and wet, it makes his lips buzz. “It’s not nothing.” A hazy forcefield pulls them closer together, magnetizes his blood. 

“Fox…” his friend whispers, an unmistakable look of longing in his eyes. For the first time ( or maybe not the first time) Fox wonders what would happen were he to brush his lips against August’s. 

 

Then it happens.

Fox roughly pulls August into a frenzied kiss, swallowing the surprised gasp that escapes his lips. August responds immediately, humming and sweeping his tongue inside Fox’s waiting mouth. It feels so good, better than it should. _We’re just drunk, kissing another guy doesn’t count when you’re wasted,_ he tries to convince himself. A soft thumb scrapes along the golden hoop in his ear.

“Ow!” He gasps, pulling away sharply. The skin feels tender, hot to the touch.

“Oy, sorry.” August’s voice is soft, his eyes dark.

“No, I..uh...I’m sorry.” Fox absently touches his lips. “I... I don’t know why I did that.” A hurt look quickly flashes over August's features. “I think… I think I’ve had entirely too much to drink.” He covers his face, hiding from something he can't put a name to 

“Yeah…” August pauses, looking away. “No harm done.” Fox tries to ignore the unspoken longing in the space between his words.

\---

That night Fox has a dream. 

_He and August are once again heading into the showers. August is naked. A drip of sweat as it travels over his tight stomach, down down. Instead of the normal shower stalls, it is an open tiled room. The two of them are alone._

_“Doesn’t a shower feel lovely after a go on the ergs?” He asks, repeating his words from a few days ago. His taut body glistens under the shower spray. The steam envelopes their bodies, somehow obscuring only their lower halves._

_“So lovely.” Fox smiles at him, his eyes drifting down, straining to see August’s prick through the cloud of vapor._

_“Would you like to see it?” He asks, proudly stepping out of the heavy cloud of hot steam._

_“Yes,” he gulps. There it is; uncircumcised and semi-soft yet heavy between his legs. He likes what he sees. They are close now, their slick bodies nearly touching._

_“Look…” he says gazing down. Their soft cocks touch. Fox watches in awe as they swell and swell until they are both fully hard. The sight is beyond erotic.._

_“Would you like some help?” August allow’s his eyes to drift down to his erection. “With your problem.” His brown eyes darken with desire as he sinks to his knees in front of Fox._

_“You would... help me?” He asks. August smiles, his mouth now inches from his swollen cock._

_“We’re good friends, aren’t we?” He asks, blowing a breath over his aching flesh. Unable to speak, Fox can only nod. “And don’t good friends each other out?”_

_“Yes.” He gulps. Looking down, he sees the way August’s mouth hovers so close to his now straining erection. “Oh Auggie, oh Auggie,” he whines, barely able to stand the anticipation._

_“I know you want this,” August moans, and he can almost feel it vibrate over his skin. A bead of his pre-cum falls onto his friend’s waiting tongue. ”I can taste it.”_

_“Yes, yes, please.” He almost begs. Fox watches in awe as the head of his cock disappears inside August’s mouth. He almost comes_

_“Fox?” A shocked yet familiar female voice comes out of nowhere. He looks up and their surroundings have changed. They are no longer in the showers, but now in one of the Psychology labs._

_“What are you doing?” Phoebe asks. He is frozen, unable to move or speak. Yet still aroused beyond belief._

_“An experiment,” August offers, before swirling his tongue around the bell-end, making him shudder violently._

_“Ohh, what kind of experiment?” Phoebe asks, getting closer. Her eyes trained on the two of them._

_“To prove my hypothesis.” His tongue snakes out to lick him from base to tip. When he gasps, August smiles, and repeats the action._

_“And what is your hypothesis?” Phoebe kneels down with a clipboard in hand, taking notes as she watches the two of them._

_“That Fox likes getting his cock sucked by another bloke.” His friend says before swallowing him whole, making him moan loudly. The sight of his cock disappearing into his August’s mouth magnetizes his blood._

_“Interesting theory, are you doing field research?” She asks. He groans his answer around Fox’s swollen prick. “I see, is the subject fully aroused?” She asks, making notes._

_August pops his mouth off of the head. “Can’t you see how hard he is?” He points to Fox’s dick, slick with his saliva._

_“Why yes.” She says, holding up his cock with her pen, as if she were scientifically inspecting it. “And what are your findings?” She asks, her eyes wide with curiosity and desire. August pushes her away, anxious to continue his ministrations. Up and down. Up and down, until Fox is teetering on the brink of oblivion._

_“I’ll let you know when he comes.” His tongue flicks over his frenulum, making him jerk. Right before his very eyes he spurts hotly into August’s mouth. Swallow. Swallow. Swallow. Phoebe’s eyes go wide as she scribbles notes on her clipboard._

_“I’d say I’ve proven my hypothesis.” August licks his lips, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Wouldn’t you?”_

_“Yes, I’d say.” She reaches out to stroke a finger along Fox’s softening prick. “Complete and total poofter.”_

His eyes snap open, and he bolts upright, gasping harshly. Immediately feeling the tell tale signs of a wet dream. His dick is limp, his shorts sticky. An image of August on his knees swallowing him again and again forces its way into his mind. He kissed August, and then had a sex dream about him. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he tries to get himself under control. 

He begins to question everything: his sexuality, his friendship to August, his supposed attraction to women. Anger and confusion beat at his insides, making them feel raw and bloody.

A few days later, Phoebe shows up late at night to his flat with a copy of the Sherlock Holmes novel “A Study in Scarlet.” A week after that, she fucks him on Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave. 

The day before summer holiday, Phoebe tells him that she’s going to France with her family. 

“I’ll write you there, if you give me the address,” he tells her as she places a neatly folded pair of slacks in her Samsonite suitcase. 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” says brightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll just ring you when I get a moment.”

Fox waits the whole summer, she never calls.

**End Chapter 3**


	4. The Hospital

_October 1984_

“How was your summer vacation?” August asks strolling into the living room. His muscles are well-defined under his mesh rugby kit. Blinking, Fox wonders why he even noticed. It’s been months since they’ve seen each other, but it hasn’t been months since he’s thought about August. 

“Eh, my dad was away on official business with the State Department for most of the summer, and my mom… well… she pretty much ignored me the whole time.” As he pauses, there is a feeling of resentment towards his parents, which he quickly tamps down. “Which is good I guess, ‘cause somehow she didn’t notice that I got my ear pierced.” He chuckles, tapping at his ear. August looks thoughtful, as though he can see through the layers of bullshit to the very heart of him. “I think I spent most of my summer reading out on the dock.”

“Sorry,” August moves to touch his shoulder, but quickly retracts his hand as though burned by some earlier memory.“Your summer sounds about as lonesome as mine.” For the first time since he’s known August, something like sadness opens up in his eyes. He knows the feeling. If melancholy and loneliness could occupy a physical space, he would live there.

“Oh, why’s that?” He asks the question with care. The memory of Phoebe’s betrayal loomed over the whole summer like a heavily charged thunder-cloud. Even still, he was surprised at how often his thoughts turned to August. 

“Well my mum sent me packing off to my grandfather’s estate, so I could _learn the business_. But really I think she wanted me to keep an eye on him. After All, someone needs to make sure he’s not getting so pissed that he decides to drive his Rolls into the lake like he did last summer.” The tone of his voice is almost too casual as if he were trying to cover his true feelings.

“Oooh, ouch.” Fox grimaces, realizing that there is a lot about August that he doesn’t know. “And I’m guessing that someone is you?”

“Yep, and he won’t listen to his doctor about the drinking, so I guess he’ll just keep at it until he isn’t able to anymore.” August clears his throat, unable to hide his feelings behind his normally cheerful exterior.

“You’re a good person for taking care of your grandfather.” Fox says, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. When he looks at August he sees a longing look of affection in his eyes. It’s almost too much. Anxious to change the subject, he clears his throat. “Don’t you have a rugby practice to get to?” He asks, gesturing towards August’s red kit. 

“Ah, yes, and I need my long lost American to accompany me.” The tone of August’s voice has become jovial once again. 

“Well then, you're in luck," he says.

As the two of them start down Carfax, he catches the fragrance of Autumn on the air. The leaves are beginning to burst into firey oranges, reds, and yellows. It reminds him of how much he missed Oxford while he was in the States. Something tells him that the change of seasons is made better by the company he keeps. 

“Practicing for the big varsity match against Cambridge?” Fox asks as they make their way onto High Street and towards the rugby pitch.

“Yeah, it’s in December.” He kicks a stone in front of him. “They have a proper team this year, but I still think we are going to beat them.” A light breeze blows through August’s curls as he flashes Fox a winning smile. “Especially since they have me on the team this year.” 

“Don’t get too full of yourself, Aug," he says, giving his friend a playful punch on the arm. The field is now in view. August bends over to grab his ankles in a stretch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sneaks a peek at August’s sculpted glutes. “You don’t want to jinx your chances of winning,” he says, looking away.

“The only thing that will jinx me is being associated with you.” He winks at Fox through open legs.

“Haha, very funny. Now get out there and show them who’s boss.” He gives August a sportsmanlike tap on the shoulder. 

Fox stands next to the bleachers, where he can enjoy the scrimmage without having to talk to other people. Watching August tear around the muddy field with ease makes him feel proud. It’s easy to admire his friend’s athleticism; the powerful poise he lends to the game. 

“Nice work, Aug!” He shouts, clapping his hands as his friend is lifted up high to catch the ball. 

As if in slow motion, August’s body falls through the air hitting the ground with a loud CRACK! Everything goes still. In a blind panic, he races onto the field. The other men encircle August, crowding out his view. 

“Get out of the way!” Fox shouts, shoving the teammates aside.“Where’s August?” He asks, and despite the frustration in his voice, no one answers. Finally, he finds August laying in a heap on the turf. Unmoving.

His heart stops. This could be bad, really bad.

Kneeling down, he tries to inspect his companion's injuries. A large gash bleeds steadily above his friend’s left eyebrow. Something within him snaps into action. Ripping off his t-shirt, he presses the worn cotton to the gaping wound above August’s swollen eye. 

“What happened?” He chokes, watching the red seep through the white fabric. The blood feels sickeningly warm against his fingers. When again no one answers his question, rage blooms in his chest. “Can someone tell me what happened to him?” His voice is loud and raw with emotion. 

Finally the captain speaks up; “He came down all wrong, hit his head pretty hard.”

_No. No. No._

Recognizing August’s need for immediate medical attention, he begins barking out orders. “This man needs to get to a hospital! Someone go call a taxi!” He commands, finding a strength in his voice that he had never known before. “Now!” The captain runs towards the pavilion just beyond the turf.

“Come on Aug, wake up.” He caresses the angular line of his friend’s jaw. What would he do without August, his best friend, his... His throat constricts painfully, he can’t even bear the thought. “Please,” he whispers.

Finally August’s eyes slide open, his expression is dazed, confused even. His pupils are large and dilated.

“Hey,” he chokes, cupping his fallen friend's face in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“No, not at all,” he winces, rubbing his head. “What are you daft?” August asks, a pained grimace marring his features. “Can’t you see, I cracked my skull like an egg?” As August smiles up at him, relief rushes through his body.

“It’s good to know your sense of humor is still intact.” He says through a rough chuckle. Wincing in pain August attempts to sit up on his elbows. “Just lie still, Aug.” A gentle hand rests on August’s chest, where Fox is grateful to feel a steady heartbeat under his palm.” A taxi is on its way. As soon as it gets here, I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

“Ooof.” August tenderly touches the gash on his head. “I’ve never fallen out like that. Someone must’ve jinxed me,” he says weakly.

“I must be bad luck,” he says still holding his friend’s head in his hands. For a second, a look of tempered affection glides over his features.

“Must be,” he says.

\---

At the hospital, the two men sit next to each other in the waiting room. When August’s head falls against his shoulder, Fox startles with worry.

“Don’t fall asleep, okay?” He makes his voice gentle, soothing almost.

“But I’m so tired,” his friend yawns and struggles to stay upright, still pressing the blood-soaked white t-shirt to his head. As if by chance, their hands come to rest next to each other. 

“I know, but I’ll keep you awake,” he says his pinky accidentally brushing up against August’s. Glancing around the waiting room, he notices that the few other patients seem to be preoccupied with their own ailments and injuries. Satisfied that they aren't being watched, he catches his friend’s pinky with his own. August sighs in contentment. For a moment he forgets about everything and everyone around him.

“August Drake,” a nurse calls, rudely breaking the two out of their reverie. “The doctor will see you now.”

“It was a nasty fall, and I suspect you have a grade three concussion, young man,” Doctor Willoughby says, threading stitches through August’s strong brow. “You’re lucky your friend brought you here straight away.” The older gentleman nods towards Fox.

“Yes, sir.” August says respectfully, wincing as the needle pierces his skin. “Quite lucky.”

“He needs rest in order to heal. If the pain becomes worse, he may take some mild painkillers.” The doctor tells Fox as he wraps a bandage around August’s head. “If you notice anything out of the ordinary in his condition, give us a ring,” 

“Okay. I’ll keep an eye on him,” he tells the doctor while slinging an arm around August as they exit the building. As much as he's tried to ignore the strong connection between the two of them, his friend's injury has put a new perspective on it. The thought of losing August seems unbearable, unthinkable. Still, he remains confused about what these feelings really mean.

\---

**One week later**

The end credits of "The Life of Brian" roll, his sides ache from laughter. After all they have been through, it feels good. Taking off his glasses, he places them on the end table before glancing over at August. His head is propped up on his elbows, his eyelids at half mast. The black stitches still traipse above his eyebrow, visible but healing. A warm feeling envelopes him, like sinking into a bath with water that is the perfect temperature.

 

Just as he’s about to stand up, August’s head bobs and dips before landing in his lap. _I’ll just give him a few minutes, then I’ll wake him._ In the soft lamplight of the room, he allows himself to take in his friend's features: his strong jaw, the fullness of his mouth. His mouth. Slow even breaths puff against Fox’s denim covered inner thigh, creating a moist yet delicious heat. Biting his lip, Fox attempts to control the familiar stirring in his pants.

Through some cruel or serendipitous twist of fate, August rolls over and buries his face in Fox’s crotch. He wills himself not to react to the close contact, but his traitorous body has other ideas. _It’s just the stimulation._ It’s a lie that not even he can force himself to believe. His friend hums and smacks his lips, sending a vibration straight through his cock. Fox hardens immediately, causing his clothed erection to push firmly against August’s mouth. Fuck! Panic and arousal swirl through him. If his friend sees him like this there will be no denying it. It’s not like he can blame his erection on the Monty Python crew! Just then, August’s dark lashes sleepily slide open.

“Oh,” he clicks his tongue, clearly seeing the view in front of him. “Good morning, glory.”

Busted. 

“Uh…” Fox jumps off of the couch. “I’m going to bed, see you in the morning,” he calls over his shoulder as he races to the safety of his bedroom. Falling into his bed, he anxiously pushes his jeans from his hips. A squirt of hand lotion in his palm. The moment his fist closes around his cock, he moans.

_Do not think about August._ Stroke. _Do not think about August._ Stroke. 

He thinks about August. The shower room at the gym. The brief glimpse of August’s body; his hard muscles, his cock hanging low between his thighs. 

A soft knock on the door startles him out of his horny haze. When he looks over August is standing there, his mouth agape. His gaze drifts down to see Fox with his dick in hand. Desire blooms in August's eyes. His skin goes hot, engulfed in goosebumps. 

“Aug!” he yells in shock, throwing his bed sheet over his lower half. His face feels like it’s on fire. In a flash, he's dragging up his denim, struggling to button over his, not so secret hard-on.

“Oy, sorry,” he says, almost unwillingly tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him. “You.. erm…” he pauses to clear his throat. “You forgot your specs.” August finishes, carefully holding his glasses by the nosepiece.

“Just set them on the desk," he says keeping his gaze trained away from his not-quite-unwanted guest. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees August adjust himself through his mesh shorts. His nipples tighten under his white t-shirt.

“The door was ajar…” he starts trying to explain the intrusion, his eyes nervously darting to and fro. “I didn’t mean to… “ August drifts off. Fox curses himself for being too turned-on to care about things like privacy. A strange thought enters his mind; maybe he wanted August to see him.

“It’s okay…” he gulps, attempting to swallow down his own desire. “I’m the one who left the door open.” A thick tension settles in the space between them. As his friend turns away, a feeling of unspoken longing settles over him.

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to… polishing your knob.” His friend weakly cracks, clearly trying to break the tension in the room. Under normal circumstances, he would laugh it off. But this is August. 

As his friend turns to leave, his fingers stay on the door without moving. Fox notices the hesitation, he feels it as well. The evidence of his desire for August is quite literally staring him in the face from underneath the sheet. There’s no denying it. All the rules and regulations, the social conventions of thrust upon him by society become lost when he looks into August's eyes. For a brief moment, all the fear and confusion melt away. 

“Aug…” he swallows thickly. “You don’t have to leave.” His statement is couched in trepidation. Finally August turns to face him. 

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks. Their eyes meet from across the room, smoldering, igniting. You can practically smell sex on the air.

“I do, but… The fear and excitement of the unknown grip him. “I feel nervous, maybe even a little scared.” Now August crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“I understand how you feel,” he says, placing a gentle hand on Fox’s shoulder. “My heart is beating so fast, I think it might jump out of my chest,” he says with a warm smile.“But you don’t have to worry, I would never do anything to harm you. You know that right?” His voice is tender, and Fox finds himself relaxing a bit. 

“Yeah, I know you wouldn’t,” he says, looking away again. “Usually, I know exactly what I want, but now… I’m not so sure.”

“Fox, all this has to be your decision.” His voice is soft, diplomatic almost. “But it seems to me…” Now his eyes travel down to Fox’s erection, still standing proudly through the sheet. “That you already know what you want,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion and something else.

He wants August, there’s no hiding it. 

“It’s that obvious, huh?” he deadpans.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, believe me,” August says, with a smirk. 

“Thanks,” he chuckles. Now August moves next to him on the bed. The tension between them mounts in light of their close proximity. 

“Would you…” he says tentatively tilting his chin towards Fox. “Would you allow me to kiss you?”

“Well, I suppose we have done that before,” Fox says, remembering that night makes him feel a multitude of things: guilt, regret, excitement, arousal, and maybe something else. Something he still might not be willing to admit, even to himself.

“I thought you’d forgotten,” August says, his eyes are tawny warm. It’s the same longing look he gave all those months ago, the one he tried to push from his mind. His heart flutters in his chest. Anticipation. 

“I… uh… I tried to, but... “ he pauses, realizing that he only needs to lean in a little further, and their mouths would come together.

“I didn’t want to allow myself to hope…” he says softly, looking at Fox through his long dark lashes.

“You can hope,” he whispers. Finally August closes the distance between them, covering Fox’s mouth with his own. Soft and then hard. It feels so good. Almost too good. His long nose presses into the other man’s cheek as he deepens the kiss. With each taste of August’s mouth, his ardor rises. Almost without thinking, he pulls August’s taut body flush against his own. Their kisses become rougher, bruising. 

For the first time, he feels the fullness of arousal poking into his stomach. An audible gasp escapes his lips. This is the first time he’s ever felt the firmness of a man’s desire. For him. It makes him feel powerful and weak all at the same time. A thrust. Fox can feel his friend’s desperation pulsing under his skin. A grind.

For a time, they rut against each other. Their bodies writhing in an ancient dance. The friction is now becoming almost unbearable. Bruising. A hand comes to rest on the button of his jeans. He panics. Ripping his mouth away from August, he rolls to the side.

“Is everything alright?” the man next to him asks, lips bee stung swollen from their kisses. The sounds of their labored breaths puncture the stillness of the room.

“Yeah, I just… need a minute," Fox says running his hands through his hair. “This is all just going so fast. The tug of war between fear and sex rages on inside of him. Which one will win out? As August shifts, his shirt rides up over his adonis belt muscles. 

“Just relax, it’s alright,” his friend says, gently rubbing his shoulders. “Would you like to stop?” The question makes his mind reel. He’s so worked up, impossibly aroused. 

“No… I don’t.” It’s the truth. Yet the thought of allowing August to see and feel the most intimate parts of himself is what is truly giving him pause. What if he doesn’t like it? Even worse, what if he does? “I’m just not sure if I’m ready for you to… touch me.”

“Perhaps you could carry on with what you were doing before…” August suggests. It takes a moment for Fox to figure out what he is referring to. 

“Oh you mean…” he lets the words fade away. “You want to watch me?” The question is met with a slow nod from August.

“Well, sort of.” He says, leaning up against Fox’s body. “I admit, I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance of you polishing your knob,” he says smirking. “I remember when I was at public school, my friend and I… we did it together at the same time.” August’s cheeks redden at the memory. “It was quite lovely actually.” The tone is his voice is wistful, romantic almost. “And we can still be close, or kiss if you like.”

 

"Yeah… I think I like that idea,” he says, tentatively pulling his zipper down. Intrigued, Fox stops to watch as August rids himself of his mesh shorts, allowing his heavy prick to bound up against his stomach. The sight of his friend’s arousal makes him puls with anticipation. Finally, he frees his aching cock from its prison inside his pants. August gasps at the sight of him, fully erect and weeping.

“May I see it? I’ve never seen a circumcised one before. Well up close anyway.” The smirk on his face seems to put Fox at ease. As the other man gets closer, he licks his lips. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, finally reaching down to stroke himself. 

It’s not long before their hands are moving in tandem. They are so close that their knuckles brush together with each stroke. Fox is enthralled by the way the foreskin moves with each stroke, his fingers ache to close around the length of him. Yet his fear keeps him from it. The sounds of their soft moans grow louder as they continue. A rough kiss. A bitten lip. It’s a sensation overload. When their eyes lock together...

All of a sudden, his body jerks forward and her cries out, spurting hotly over the back of his hand. “Fuck,’ he groans, clearly surprised by the intensity of his orgasm.

“Oh my God. You’re coming,” August says biting his lip in aroused agony. The look in his companion's eyes just makes his climax more intense. He watches as his friend’s stomach muscles tighten in preparation for his release. 

“I want to see you…” He gasps leaning closer to watch as August explodes. 

“Fox!” He yells as his orgasm overtakes his body. His features enraptured as he soaks his navel with his seed. August is beautiful, otherworldly. Adonis. David. “Fox,” he says, a gentle whisper. The sound of his name on August’s lips throws him. The feelings of ecstasy and joy fade as he looks down at his prick, limp and leaking. Guilt and shame wrap their ugly hands around him. When he looks back over at August, he’s beaming. His heart sinks like a heavy stone into his stomach. Beautiful and wrong. So wrong.


	5. Christian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his grandfather takes a turn for the worst, August is called back to his family home in Scotland. Most of this chapter is from August's pov.

_Chapter 5_

_October 1984_

For a moment everything is silent, except for the sound of their heavy breaths piercing the still air around them. August’s smile is sleepy, satisfied. The room smells of sweat and masculine arousal. Sex. He and August have just pleasured themselves right next to each other. And now he doesn’t know what to do. His heart hammers in his chest anxiety and guilt weighs down his limbs. With a drowsy smile still on his face, August leans over and Fox finds himself dodging his friend’s intended kiss. A hurt look passes over August’s chiseled features, making him feel even more guilty.

“Aug, listen… I uh… this was nice, but uh... I’ve got an early class.” Fox dips his head, averting his eyes away from his half-naked friend. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“Oh, I...I see,” his friend says softly, and Fox hears the disappointment in his voice. If there is anything he knows about August, it’s that he’s preternaturally intuitive and sensitive. Though, it’s clear to Fox that years of expensive schooling and lessons on etiquette have taught his friend to hide his emotions for the sake of politeness and decorum. “I wouldn’t want to interfere with your schedule. Besides, I’ve got training in the morning anyway,” his friend says almost too casually. Fox finds himself distracted by August pulling his mesh shorts over his nearly perfect ass. The guilt he felt previously strikes back with a vengeance.

“Your team wants you back so soon?” He asks, averting his eyes. “Aren’t they going to give you time to recover after your injury? It’s only been a week.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been knocked about on the field,” he says walking towards the door. “Besides, I could never stay away too long. They’d be a sorry mess without me. They need me too much.” August pauses, but he doesn’t turn around. “And it’s nice to be needed, sometimes,” he says softly closing the door behind him with a soft snick.

\---

**August’s POV:**

August leans his back up against the door, attempting to swallow the emotions swirling around in his stomach. He should’ve known better than to stay in Fox’s room. Something in the back of his brain warned him that this would all go to shit, and now it has. He should’ve never expected Fox to… The sound of the phone ringing in the other room breaks him out of a sea of self-pity. He straightens his shoulders and picks up the receiver.

“Hello.” His voice sounds strange, he attempts to correct that by clearing his throat. No need to sound emotional. “August Drake speaking,” he says as cheerfully as he can. 

“August, this is Imogen,” a familiar voice of his cousin Imogen comes over the line. Normally, he would be exceedingly happy to hear from her, but something seems wrong. “I’ve got something to tell you.” Her usually chipper tone had darkened and sobered.

“ _Imogen_ , what’s wrong, what’s the matter?” He asks, genuinely concerned “Is it grandfather?” His question is met with a pregnant pause.

“Yes…. August, he’s getting worse,” her voice catches, and August’s heart drops. “The doctors are saying that his prognosis....” she pauses to swallow. “Isn’t good. I know you have your studies, but we need you here.”

“Oh… of course, I’ll come straight away, I’ll get on the next train.”

“Oh, and August, he’s been asking for you,” she pauses again, and August sighs deeply into the phone. His grandfather and he had never been close, in fact, Edward Drake did little to keep his disappointment in August a secret. It was obvious that he would never be able to live up to the high expectations his grandfather placed on him. “He says that he’s got something to tell you.” 

“Oh, okay, is my mother there?” he asks, already knowing the answer. “The last I heard she was in the South of France with her boyfriend,” August says bitterly.

“You know as much as I do. She hasn’t taken any of my calls,” Imogen says. “It’s just me, my mum and of course Christian is here.” The mention of Christian’s name makes his chest feel tight, strange. Christian was from a neighboring estate, and the three of them would play together every summer all while they were growing up. “August, we _need_ you here.” 

“Of course,” he says in a reassuring tone. “I’ll just catch the sleeper train from Euston to Edinburgh. If all goes well, I’ll be there in the morning.”

Click, the line goes dead.

August throws a few items into his rucksack; some clothes, his journal, a bar of soap. He tucks the silver engraved flask that his grandfather gave him for his eighteenth birthday into the pocket of his trousers. After he calls a cab, he jots down a note:

_Fox, I have been called back to my grandfather’s estate for some ~~urgent~~ family business…_

No, that wouldn’t do, he doesn’t want to give too much away.

_Dear Fox,_

_I am needed at my grandfather’s estate. Nothing to worry about, I’ll be back in a few days._

_Sincerely,_

-A

The note is purposefully vague, and knowing Fox he’ll either toss it in the rubbish heap or worry over it for the whole weekend. Besides, after what happened between them last night, he’s not even sure that Fox would care. The way things were developing between them was both confusing and frustrating. In fact, it might be good to get away from his… _friend_ for a few days. 

On the train, August fingers the silver flask in his pocket. The cold metal under his fingers makes him think of his grandfather; with his spotted liver and bulbous nose. Is he destined to be just like him? Living in a huge stuffy house with a million responsibilities, slowly drinking himself to death… the thought makes him shudder. In that instant, he pictures his grandfather’s eyes: worn out and sad. His fingers itch to take a swig from the container, but no...

The train ride takes forever.

The Rolls takes him along the familiar yet winding road to the estate. His mother, Elizabeth, grew up here in Scotland but hasn’t been back to the house in many years. Something happened between her and his grandfather a long time ago, but of course, no one ever talked about their estrangement. When he wasn’t away at school, or here in Scotland, he spent the holidays with her at a small house in London. 

Through the window he sees the Tudor stone spires peeking around the fire-colored leaves. The Shennanton House sits just as it always has; steady and unchanging. So many good memories, so many painful ones; maybe that’s just what home is; a place that makes you feel good and bad all at once.

When he arrives, Imogen greets him in the entrance hall. Her curly brown hair is pinned back but hangs loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes are the same color as his; golden brown.

“August.” Imogen throws her entire weight into her embrace, clearly the last few days have taken a toll on her. When she breaks from him, they smile soberly at each other. August looks around to see that his Aunt Edith has entered the room. 

“We’re delighted to see you, darling,” Aunt Edith says softly, stroking his cheek. Her hair is beginning to gray at the temples, and her worry lines have deepened since he last saw her. “I only wish it were under better circumstances.” 

“How is he?”. 

“He’s had a troublesome few days,” her brows furrow as she tries to keep her emotions at bay. “He’s quite fatigued. I’ve asked the nurse to let us know when he wakes, but...” She points to the stitches above his eye. “What happened here? Were you injured at rugby again?”

“Nothing to worry over Aunt Edith, just a scratch,” August tells her. Aunt Edith had always been kind to him, caring for him as though he were her own child. Being that his mother was rarely around, and his father had left when he was a young boy, it was nice to have someone who cared for him in this way. 

“Some things never change,” a familiar Scottish brogue booms out from the back hallway. His heart jumps. Christian. Our Oxford man is home,” he says jovially, clapping him on the shoulder, his hand remaining longer than it should. Their close proximity allows August to smell the aromas of leather, cut grass, and cigars that are so uniquely Christian. “Bloody hell…” Christian grimaces and moves closer to inspect the injury. 

“I was knocked out cold. Luckily, my flatmate was there to take me to the hospital,” he says, catching himself. He’s not ready to tell his family about Fox. “I’m practically healed up now though.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Christian says, looping his arm through Imogen’s.

“Dinner is served,” his aunt calls from the doorway thankfully interrupting his thoughts.

\---

In the morning, August finds himself knocking around the great big house all by himself. The way the floorboards creak and shift reminds him of his time at the haunted Oxford castle. The memory sends a chill down his spine and makes him wish that Fox were with him right now. Close to his body. 

August should be angry with Fox. He should. But anytime he thinks of those hazel eyes the anger melts away. Why must everything remind him of Fox? It’s bloody infuriating.

Sighing, he climbs the stairs to the eastern wing of his home. Despite its size, it still manages to feel lifeless and stuffy. Making his way along the corridor, he sees the ancient portraits and dusty black and white photos. One day his likeness will be hung amongst the long row of Scotch soaked aristocrats. He hates it. 

August turns the corner into his mother's old room. A row of scratchy woolen dresses lines the inside of her armoire. Out of curiosity, he pushes the dresses aside to find an old hat box at the back. Knowing he shouldn’t be looking through her private items makes the idea all too enticing to resist. He looks out around the doorway for intruders. 

A black and white photo of his mother and father on their wedding day fills him with a strange longing he hasn’t felt since he was a child. Underneath the picture is a stack of yellowing letters, stained with his father’s unmistakable scrawl.

_9 July 1963_

_Lizzie,_

_I am writing to you now with a heaviness in my heart. I am in agony over the way we left things, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you thinking that all of this was your fault. It wasn’t. It wasn’t my choice to leave you and little Auggie, my hand was forced. Circumstances being what they are, I cannot relay the full truth. If I were to tell you now, I fear that it would only make things worse. Please understand. I miss you and August dearly, and I will see you as soon as I can._

_All my love,_

_Andy_

When he opens another letter, a sepia-toned photo of two men arm in arm falls to the floor. Picking it up, he immediately recognizes his father, but the other man is a mystery. The back of the photo says; _Andrew & Javier Barcelona 1963. _August has never seen this picture before.

There’s a knock on the door. August startles, and scrambles to hide the letters and photos back in the hatbox. 

“Master August,” Jenny, the housekeeper, pokes her head around the door. “Your grandfather will see you now.”

\---

Light streams through the windows. In the corner, a sterile metal tray with medical supplies is a reminder of his grandfather’s illness. The old man sits upright in his bed, his skin yellowed, his nose red and bulbous, his amber-colored eyes sunken in and hollowed. 

“Hello, grandfather.” Seeing his grandfather in such a state makes him feel sick. When Edward Drake sees August, the light grows brighter in his eyes.

“Auggie, my boy, come over here so I can get a look at you,” he rasps, his vocal cords weathered from years of abuse.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like life has finally caught up with me, and I’m not sure that I like it,” Mr. Drake smiles weakly at his own joke.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, the doctors say I did this to myself, and for once I think they might be right,” he says patting his grandson’s hand, his skin is yellowed and papery, the blue lines showing through. “When a man comes to the end of his life, there’s no sense in lying to himself anymore,” he says with a rare clarity. The sincerity in his tone cuts August to the core.

“When I am gone, it’ll be up to you to take over my business holdings. You’ll be left to manage the entire estate. Everything I have, everything our family has worked so hard to create will be yours.” 

“What about Oxford?” August asks, thinking of his own dreams for his career, thinking of Fox. “I’ll be finished in another year.”

“You’ll graduate, of course, we Drakes always finish what we start,” he says. Sighing, August thinks now of how the course of his life has been laid out for him, there is no path for him to choose. 

\---

The smell of cherry smoke and fallen leaves rises. The Autumn wind chills the tips of his fingers as August throws the last stick of wood on top of the large fire.

“There we are,” August says standing back to admire his handiwork. “A proper bonfire.” The wind catches the flames and carries a swell of smoke right into Imogen’s face. She sputters.

“Yes, a proper bonfire indeed,” she says, plopping down next to Christian.

“But you know what they say;” Christian tenderly wipes some soot from her nose. “Smoke follows beauty, my dear.” They beam brightly at one another. His heart sinks to his stomach. Has Fox ever looked at him that way? Could he ever...

“After all the dreariness lately, I never got to ask how your studies are going. Are you still taking up Psychology?” Imogen asks.

“Barely, I had to take a break after my injury,” he smirks and points to the scar above his eye. “At the moment it seems kind of useless though. I’ll never be able to make a career out of it.” August says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“If you could, what would you do with it?” Christian asks. August thinks for a moment. He never allowed himself to really ponder what kind of life he might want because in the end his future was already chosen for him. 

“Hmm,” he strokes his chin in thought. “The last term I had a lecture on child psychology, and I’ve always been fond of working with children… so perhaps I would be a child psychologist. Or maybe I could help young adolescents who are having trouble at home…” he drifts off, feeling insecure about his dream. Imogen touches his arm.

“I had no idea, dear,” she says softly. “If it makes you feel any better, you would’ve made a proper child psychologist.”

“Ah, I doubt it,” he says, kicking at some gravel. “I’m a shit scholar anyway. My flatmate is the only reason I’m even passing this term.”

“Oh, is that the one you’ve spoken about…the American?” Imogen says, by the sound of her voice, he can tell she is getting pissed. “ _Fox_ , is it?”

“One and the same,” August says, trying not to let his voice betray him. “He’s quite brilliant actually, and we both enjoy sport…” He is drunk enough that if he’s not careful, the whole story might come spilling out.

“Oh, _Imogen_ ,” she begins, clearly mocking August in tone and mannerisms. “He’s so clever and fit. And he’s got an American accent,” she says laughing and clasping her hands together like a schoolgirl. The heat rises to August’s face.

“Oy, come off it, Imogen,” he says elbowing her lightly. Her eyes light up mischievously.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a crush on him,” Imogen says raising her eyebrow.

Christian hasn’t looked up from the fire, his sharp jaw is tightly set.

“Perhaps, you’ve had enough, darling,” Christian says carefully. There’s an awkward silence between the three of them. Thankfully, Christian changes the subject. “Oy, so tell me about the team this year. Have you got a chance against Cambridge?” he asks. 

“Ugh,” Imogen huffs and stands up. “I’ve heard enough talk about Rugby for one weekend. I’m going back to the house.”

“Are you sure dear?” Christian says, standing up. “Would you like me to walk you?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. I’m not that pissed.” Imogen leans down to place a sweet kiss on Christian’s cheek. “I’ll leave you lads to it.” 

“But I thought you loved Rugby. You said it was your favorite sport,” August teases.

“Put a sock in it,” she fires back “You can discuss the fine intricacies of every play without me, thank you very much. Goodnight,” she calls over her shoulder as she disappears into the dark. An awkward silence settles between him and Christian. The fire snaps and crackles as August adds another stick of wood to the flames.

“She’s right, isn’t she,” Christian says from behind him. 

“What are you on about?” August asks, settling next to his friend. 

“You do fancy him, don’t you?” The question is soft, almost vulnerable. August gulps. His emotions roil around inside of him; the fizzy feeling of infatuation, the strangeness of disappointment and regret.

“I can see it in the way you speak about him,” Christian says working his jaw. He is not sure how to answer; the truth or something resembling the truth?

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, and Christian merely nods. “I suppose it is. I’ve tried to ignore it, but…” August drifts off. The air is thick and heavy between them now.

“Does he…” Christian pauses to clear his throat. “Return your affections?” It’s a loaded question and one that he wishes he had an answer for. For a moment August remembers the look in Fox’s eyes the first time they kissed; yearning and confused.

“If only I knew. If only I knew.”

End Chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little more difficult since I was introducing several original characters. I'm a little nervous about it since I have never written a story with characters that only exist in my brain. Please let me know what you think.


	6. The earring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox makes some startling discoveries.

************Next Chapter, back to Fox POV:** ** ** ** ** **

That night, Fox can’t sleep. A thousand thoughts race through his head. What has he done? What have ______they______ done? He needs to find a way to prove to himself that his feelings for August are simply a fluke. Besides, what they did wasn’t even sex exactly. Didn’t he read in some text or another that the act of mutual masturbation was completely normal among young males? It doesn’t have to have some grand meaning, just two friends engaged in little experimentation. Simply a sexual urge that he needed to satisfy. 

Despite his determination to explain away his feelings, Fox still feels a niggling sense of self-doubt. After what happened last night, he can’t help but wonder; _____am I attracted to men now, or is it just August?_____ There is something different about his friend, he can’t deny that. But what is it exactly? Even if he possesses strong sexual feelings for August, it doesn’t mean he has to act on them. Besides, if this is just about sex, he doesn’t need August for that. 

There’s always Phoebe.

The desire to prove to himself once and for all that he still attracted to women drives him out of bed and into the shower. He’s so anxious to leave, that he can’t even bother with making himself a cup of tea. As he rushes past the kitchen table, his jacket sweeps a slip of paper to the floor. The elegant swirl of a cursive letter ‘A’ peaks out. August. Hesitation. A buzzing low in his abdomen.

______Dear Fox,_ _ _ _ _ _

______I am needed at my grandfather’s estate. Nothing to worry about, I’ll be back in a few days._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sincerely,_ _ _ _ _ _

-A

The questions swirl in his mind, but he chooses to ignore them. With a long exhale, he walks out the door.

\---

His hand is poised in front of Phoebe's gold plated knocker in the shape of a lion. As if to warn him. By now he knew that sex with Phoebe was like getting your fingers caught in a Chinese finger-trap, but his impulsivity, his desire to prove his sexuality is far stronger than his logic at the moment. In fact, he’s already starting to feel aroused now. ______Thank God.______

Breathing into his hand, he feels glad that he remembered to floss and brush his tongue.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says in her posh British accent. Her keen blue eyes rake over his body instantly. He takes notice of the way her long red hair curls over shoulders. It’s a winning combination. After all, he has always had a thing for redheads. “Why don’t you come in,” she says, flashing him a sensual smile. He dips his chin and looks at her from under his dark eyelashes. 

“Would you like some tea?” She asks politely. “I just put the kettle on.”

“No,” he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her into a rough kiss. She immediately responds, slipping her sharp little tongue in and out of his mouth like a snake. Fox nibbles at her neck, nips at her collarbone. “I didn’t come here for tea.” He lifts her up onto the countertop, yanks her heavy tweed skirt up higher on her thighs

“Then what did you come here for?” Her cold fingers dig into his collarbone as she pushes him down to his knees. He doesn’t mind though, because this is his favorite part. He can’t wait to taste her, lose himself in the dark secrets she holds between her pale thighs. With his finger and thumb, he spreads her open to see the thing that he’s been missing.

“This,” he says simply watching her face slide into pleasure as he circles his tongue around the glistening swollen bud. Ah yes, this is it. Phoebe’s pussy is pink poison; delicious and addictive. One last hit and he’s sure he’ll be done with her. She moans and locks her legs around his head to pull him in closer, nearly suffocating him in her warm wet depths. Unbidden, a thought pops into his mind: ______I wonder what it would be like to do this to August?______ Surely the mechanics of pleasuring a man would be something new, but at its core, is the nature of the act itself any different?

“Use your fingers,” Phoebe’s demanding voice jolts him away from his daydream. He does as asked. 

Making Phoebe come is like solving a puzzle, and solving puzzles makes him hard. He pleasures her until his jaw is sore and his tongue is aching. Finally, he feels her begin to quiver under his tongue. 

“Yes!” she cries out, as she squeezes his head between her thighs like an iron vice. His tongue fast on her clit, coaxing her through her orgasm. “Bloody hell,” she shouts as she pushes his head away. His lips are numb, his nose covered in her cum.

He can’t wait.

Unable to help himself, he crushes her mouth into his. She bites and before pushing him away.

“Oh, darling, you know I don’t like that. Why don’t you go and rinse your mouth,” she tells him sternly. 

“Oh...uh… of course,” he turns towards down the hall towards the communal lavatory. His leather jacket does little to cover his humiliated hard-on. But he does as asked.

When he returns, she is gone. A note peeks out from under her half-drunk teacup. 

______Mulder, I regret having to leave in such a hurry. I am needed in the lab. Meet me at the library tonight, I promise to make it up to you.- Phoebe._ _ _ _ _ _

His throat constricts _ _ _ _ _ _. This is just like her______ , he thinks. ______All she ever does is string me along to do her bidding.______

For the first time, he notices the large professionally painted portrait of Phoebe hanging above the mantle. There are several expensive-looking silver frames carefully placed around the room. Curious, he steps closer to inspect the photographs. Phoebe at the beach, Phoebe in front of a Christmas tree, Phoebe in riding gear holding and award. Not a single photograph of a family member or friend. Fox had been to her flat dozens of times, how had he never noticed?.

His muscles twitch, anxious to get the hell out of this horrid place. He needs to know. As quickly as he can, Fox sprints to the library. Hours pass, the ancient windows go from bright to dark, the table fills with pages of psychology text flipping before his eyes like a slide projector gone off the rails. Memories of the two of them together begin to come into a razor-sharp focus. His jaw sets, razor-sharp.

“Phoebe’s a psychopath.”

“Ah, there you are, Mulder,” Phoebe’s voice startles him, making him drop the heavy book he was just looking at.

“Shit, Phoebe, you scared me,” he says, not moving to embrace her. “I didn’t think you’d show,” he says unable to hide the venom in his voice. 

“Surely you’re not cross with me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that I’m cross exactly,” he bends to pick up the text from the floor. “Glib and superficial charm, grandiose estimation of self, need for stimulation, pathological lying, cunning and manipulativeness, lack of remorse or guilt, ____callousness and lack of empathy,”____ he emphasizes. Phoebe looks at him with steel sharp eyes.

“Mulder, what are you going on about?” she asks. Barely controlled rage boils in his belly. 

“Poor behavioral controls, ____sexual promiscuity.”____ His voice grows louder.“Failure to accept responsibility for own actions.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough.”

“No, Phoebe, I’ve had enough,” he says dropping the book and pushing past her. “I’m not going to be a pawn in your psychopathic games anymore. We’re through!” he shouts. 

“Mulder!” Phoebe calls out, but he can’t hear her over the blood rushing in his ears. As he runs towards the door, a foot, maybe his foot, connects with the heavy oak table. 

“Fuck!” he winces in agony.

“Shhhh…” A crowd of faceless people hushes him. “Quiet in the library.”

“Go to hell!” he shouts as his body pushes through the heavy doors.

His arms pump fast, the air is razor-sharp to his lunges. His legs carry him faster and faster. Fingernails rake over his face, an attempt to scrub it all away. He feels angry, humiliated, manipulated. 

Used.

Then. the edges of the pond. Up over the bridge, and breathing hard. Coming to a stop, he bends to his knees. Sweat pours from his temples. Fox rips the earring from his ear and lobs it into the water.

“It’s over!” he shouts into the cold October air. The black water ripples and ripples in the Harvest moon. It hurt to know that Phoebe never really cared about him, but it was also somehow freeing. A sense of acceptance washes over his skin.

As he walks back to the flat, he begins to think again of August. After the day he’s had, August is the only person he wants to see, the only person who even cares about him. As he opens the door, he can’t help but smile. Their eyes lock from across the room, and for a moment neither of them moves. 

“I ended things with Phoebe,” he blurts out quickly. A glimmer of something flashes across August’s features. “I don’t ever want to see her again.” But just as hope bubbles up, it’s gone. 

“I’d like to believe you, but…” he pauses, and Fox can’t ignore the hurt hanging just underneath the surface. “I think I’ve heard this one before. You see it’s always about Phoebe and whichever trauma she’s inflicted upon you this week. Which is all well and good, except I’m the one to put you back together whenever she’s decided she’s done toying with you. And I’m quite tired of it.” 

“Oh…” he pauses to swallow. “I didn't realize... I didn't think..." It's unusual for August to cut him off, but he does. 

“Well, of course." He throws his hands up in the air. "Why should I be surprised? After the other night, it's pretty clear that you haven't bothered to think of me at all." August’s words sting, but he has to recognize the truth in them.

“That night, I just… I felt so confused. I didn’t know what was up or down.” Fox says emphatically, wondering how to explain something that he doesn’t quite fully understand himself. “And I still don't know exactly what this means but… I do know that I really care about you. "

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

“I don’t know. That night, I felt so scared. I couldn’t make sense of what was going on inside of me.”

“That’s all well and good. But..." His voice gets lower. "Sometimes it seems like you only think of yourself," August says. Fox feels his heart drop heavy into his stomach. A ravine of space divides them. "I mean..." his voice breaks. Unable to help himself, Fox crosses the room to somehow try and bridge the distance. "You never even bothered to ask me why I was called to my grandfather's. If you had, then you'd know that the old man is on his death bed!" 

“Oh, God, Aug. I’m sorry. I didn’t know...” Without thinking pulls August’s hand to his lips, and kisses his knuckles. "Are you okay?" 

"You can't… you can't do stuff like that anymore if you don't mean it." feels something different than he ever felt with Phoebe. A depth of trust and respect, of affection. August softly touches Fox’s ear, warmth spreads over his body.

“You took the ring out,” he whispers. A small smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand. “But enough about me.” Fox catches August’s wrist and leads him to the sofa. As they sit, their hands come together. A sign of things to come. "Now tell me everything about your grandfather."

\----

Continued in Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text Mulder is reading is from The Psychopathy checklist ( or PCL) which was developed by Canadian psychologist Robert D. Hare in the 1970s. It is a tool that is still in use today. Read more about it on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychopathy_Checklist
> 
> Also, love me some feedback. Hit me up fam!:-)


	7. Arousal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, as a gift for being so patient, here's some sex...

As the end of term rolls around Fox finds himself in a state of almost constant panic. Their final essays are due in almost every class. He sits in front of the electric typewriter on his desk. After hours at the keyboard, his mind is complete mush. Breathing out a long exhale he crumbles up the page he had been working on for the last hour. It’s no good, just a pile of crap.

A knock on the door startles him.

“I thought you might fancy a biscuit or a break. Something. You’ve been at this for hours.”

“Yeah,” he says taking a bite of the biscuit. “I’m just having trouble finishing this essay for Stafford. He’s such a grammar nazi. I need to ace this class or my father’s going to be furious with me!” Fox begins pacing around the room.

“Oy, you need to relax, mate,” August says, coming behind him. Strong fingers press into his neck and shoulders. At first, he tenses, then he feels his muscles begin to give way.

“That feels good,” he says. “Thank you. Over the last few weeks, things between him and August have been progressing slowly. The attraction between them is undeniable, but the idea of going public with his feelings is still terrifying. 

“Good,” August says, continuing to press his thumbs into his triceps, then moving lower to the bottom of his spine. As August’s strong hands work his throbbing muscles, Fox sighs willing himself to let the stress and tension go. The cable-knit sweater he put on this morning bunches under his friend’s powerful fingers.

Something compels him to ask a question he already knows the answer to. “I should probably take this off, huh?” Fox asks, pulling at the bottom of his sweater.

“Only if you want to, it might get in the way after all,” August says nonchalantly, as though he were trying to make it seem like he didn’t care either way. As he pulls the sweater over his head, the undershirt comes off with it, leaving his chest bare. Fox’s nipples tighten in the drafty air in the room. August bites his lower lip, and Fox feels the pangs of desire creeping in. 

His friend gulps and continues working the muscles in Fox’s sore back. It feels so good that a low moan escapes his lips. August makes a choked noise in the back of his throat. As the other man’s fingers travel closer to his glutes, Fox stiffens. 

“Is everything alright?” his friend asks with concern. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out, willing himself to relax. “But my ass is not the problem, Aug. My shoulders and pecs are.”

“Oy, sorry, I got a bit carried away,” August chuckles, stroking his hands up to a safer location.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re coming on to me,” Fox smirks. The joke was meant to break the tension, but instead, it heightens it. 

“Oy, awful sure of yourself, aren’t we?” August snarks at him. “Why don’t you lie down, I can get your pectorals that way.”

Flopping down on the bed, Fox sees the beginnings of an erection stirring in his pants. August sighs. There’s no covering the effect his friend’s ministrations are having on Fox’s body. August moves over him, continuing the massage. Strong fingers work over his chest, sending pleasurable tingles over his body. Fox can’t help but gasp a bit as his roommate’s thumb brushes over his erect nipple.

“Is this okay?” August as he moves to lie next to Fox on the mattress.

“Yes,” he breathes. The nearness of his August, the scent of his heady cologne is almost too much. “Yes it’s good,” he says, the mouthes growing closer. Eager for more contact, Fox captures his friend’s lips with his own. He allows himself the luxury of sweeping his tongue into August’s waiting mouth. They kiss until they are both hot, sweaty and impossibly aroused.

“Will you allow me to touch you here?” August asks, as his hand travels down to rest just above Fox’s button-fly. Since their recent conversation, Fox feels slightly more comfortable about his desires, yet still unsure about how far he’s willing to go.

“Yes, just go slow,” he says softly. As August moves closer, Fox feels his friend’s arousal pressing into his hip. Fear and desire course through his veins. “Aug, I’m sorry, but don’t think I can… uh... reciprocate…” Fox gulps. “Yet.”

“I don’t mind one bit,” August says softly, tracing a line above his waistband. “We’ll just try it for a bit, and you can stop me if you don’t like it, Okay?” Fox probably shouldn’t be surprised by the way August cares so deeply about his comfort, but not many people in his life do.

“Okay,” he pauses, still feeling nervous. “But let me do that,” Fox says, grasping the zipper and pulling down slowly, careful of the sensitive flesh below. Biting his lip, August watches as Fox’s cock bounds up, finally free of its confines. His prick twitches as August’s hand hovers over it’s intended destination. 

“Oh...oh…” Fox moans as August grips his naked flesh with a firm hand. 

“Oh Fox, I knew you’d feel good,” August whispers into his ear, the sound makes every hair on his body stand on end. His hand travels down to the base of his swollen length and strokes up once.

“Shall I continue?” He asks spitting in his hand. Gasping as August strokes him from base to tip. 

“Yes, yes… oh yes…” His breath catches in his throat as August continues to pump him. Fox watches his bicep muscles tensing and releasing in time with his strokes. 

“I just want to make you feel good…” He whispers in his ear, thumb circling around the head. He spits again. Twice. The wet sound of his hand moving up and down Fox’s shaft is all he can hear. “I can feel how stressed you are, you’re so hard.” August squeezes him. “Are you stressed?” 

“So stressed, “ his eyes roll back into his head. Up and down. Up and down. His body tenses. August seems to delight in this.

“Shall I put my mouth on you…before it happens?” August asks. Fox remembers the dream he had so long ago, of him and August in the shower room. Naked and delirious with desire. ”We wouldn’t want to make a mess on the duvet.”

“Uh… yeah.” he chokes out. He’s so close, he feels like a rubber band ready to snap.

“Relax…” He pauses to spit again. ”Let it happen.” August looks around before bending his head.

As soon as August’s lips close around the head of his cock, he comes. Grunting and spurting hotly, biting his lip in ecstasy. But still, he can’t keep his eyes off of August. The only sound he can hear in the quiet of the room is that of August swallowing his seed. 

“See…” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now don’t you feel better?”

“Uhh… yeah.” His body falls boneless into the bed. August lays back, his shirt riding up to reveal an insistent erection.

“Do you mind if I?” he asks, nodding to his impressive hard-on. 

“No,” Fox mumbles, still delirious from his orgasm. “Do you mind if I watch?”

“Not at all,” August says, taking himself in hand.

—-

A few days later, Fox feels a sense of dread at the impending end of the term. “Final essays are due tomorrow,” Fox mumbles, as he lays his specs next to his typewriter. 

“Yes, this is the sixth time you’ve reminded me, I think,” August grins at him, as she closes his psychology text. He considers that the end of school is not the only thing that is stressing him out, the thought of being away from his friend is a most daunting prospect. 

“Yeah, yeah, maybe we ought to call it a night,” he says, standing up to stretch. “I’m all keyed up, why don’t we go blow off some steam at the gym?” he asks.

“You really want to be lapped on the ergs this close to the end of term?” August smirks.

“I’m really going to miss your ribbing,” he chuckles as they head out the door.

When they enter the gym it’s nearly empty. Most of their classmates are off studying or at the pub. As they work out, Fox watches his friend’s powerful muscles move. He tries to concentrate on the work-out, but he is finding it increasingly difficult. 

“Let’s stretch out,” he says, nodding towards the mats. 

“Sure, could you hold my feet while I do some crunches?” August asks, wiping some sweat from his brow. 

“No problem,” he croaks, unable to keep himself from thinking about their last encounter. Sweaty and worn out, they are both ready to hit the showers.

As they undress, neither of them can quite keep their eyes off of one another. Fox watches as the last gym goer leaves with his ruck-sack in hand. They are finally alone. 

“It’s our last night,” he says softly, dropping his short to the floor. 

“Don’t remind me,” August says, lust and sadness mingling equally in his words. 

“Don’t do that,” Fox rasps, pulling August to him. “Come here,” he grabs his friend and pulls him behind the shower curtain. The shower spray is cold at first, and they both shout at the sensation. Fox forgets all about this when his friend pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

Their tongues seeking each other out. Fox allows himself to enjoy this, allows himself to feel lusty and amorous without anyone around to judge. Fox is envious of the way August seems unencumbered by modesty or social conventions, proudly shaking his prick as it swells with blood and heat. August catches him looking and smiles.

“Would you wash me?” he asks, handing Fox a bar of white soap. 

Fox stops to think. When he looks into August’s eyes, he sees a warm affection that he is sure he shares. While he might not be ready to perform oral sex on him, it wouldn’t hurt to soap him up, right?

“Yeah, I can do that,” Fox says, taking the bar from August and beginning to lather it up. He itches to touch him, to feel his hardness under his fingers. August’s eyes roll back in his head, as Fox’s soapy fist closes over him. Slowly at first, he begins to caress him. The loose foreskin moves with each stroke. Should he touch him in the same way he touches himself? “Uh, is this okay?” Fox asks tentatively on an upstroke.

“Bloody hell,” August husks. “Just don’t pull too hard on this bit here.” August points to the tender flesh cover the head of his prick. In their kiss, the bitterness of soap mingles with the sweetness of his desire for August

“Okay, let me know if I’m not doing something right, okay?” Fox asks his mouth getting closer to August’s. 

“Don’t worry, you’re doing just fine.” August closes the distance and they sigh together as Fox continues his ministrations. His friend’s ardor rises with each touch The tip of his cock comes in contact with August’s in a kind of kiss. The sight of it is so erotic. 

“Make me feel good,” August whimpers against Fox’s mouth. Fox wraps his hand around his own length, moving it back and forth, attempting to pleasure both of them at once. Their tongues touch in the open air. He opens his mouth up wider, swallowing a deep groan from his friend.

It doesn’t take long before they are both on the brink. Their bodies hurling towards ecstasy. August cries out as he comes, spurting hotly over Fox’s length. The sight of it pushes Fox over the edge, his orgasm overtaking his body.

As they both come down, their lips cling softly to one another. Neither of them wanting to let go.

“Are you really going back to the states tomorrow?” August asks, his voice catching.

“I’m afraid so, but it’s only a month, right?” Fox asks, trying to keep his voice light.

“Yes... “ August pauses, his eyes shifting downward. “Only a month.” There is longing in his voice. Fox wants to reassure him, make it all okay.

“Hey,” he brings his finger to August’s chin, tilting up until their eyes meet. Their bodies become flush in a comforting naked embrace. “We’ll see each other when I get back. I promise.”

\---  
To be continued in Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments from readers are like mana from heaven.


	8. The end.

__Hilary term_ _

__January 1984_ _

Winter break has ended and Fox finds himself giddy at the prospect of seeing August again. Over Christmas Fox thought about his friend all the time. The two tried to speak on the telephone but found it hard to make contact due to the time difference. As soon as he opens the door, August is there to greet him.

“Our American has returned!” August rushes over and pulls him into a lingering hug. He allows himself to stay there for a little too long, enjoying the feel of being with August once again. When they pull away, August’s smooth cheek brushes against his. There is a desire to kiss August, but he quickly shoves it away. 

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How was your holiday?”

“Not so good actually,” August slumps to the couch. 

“What happened? Is it your grandfather?”

“Ahh, yes. The old man drank his final bit of Scotch and passed away the day after Christmas.” Feeling unsure of how best to comfort his friend, Fox places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says feeling his heartbreak a little at August’s sorrow.

“You know, the worst part about all this is that he was a terrible drunk, a horrible person, really. He was mean and surely, he used to smack my mum about when she was young. There was a part of me that really hated him for what he did… for who he was.” When August looks up at him, his eyes are wet. A mixture of sorrow and anger welling up from someplace underneath. “So why do I feel so guilty? Like maybe if I could’ve done something to stop him from drinking himself to death.”

“But you couldn’t,” Fox begins. As if drawn together by an unseen force, their pinky fingers touch, and then curl together. “Your grandfather chose to take this path. You aren’t responsible for his choices, only he is.”

“But the thing is, even in death the old bastard is still making choices for me.” He sighs and lets his head fall back onto his shoulder. “Now that he’s passed I’m expected to take over the business as soon as I’ve finished University. I’ll be the one to manage his estate and all of his holdings. I just don’t know if I want that kind of life.”

“I think we all struggle with the expectations that our families and our society put on us,” Fox says, allowing August to rest his full weight against him. When August looks up at him, with weepy eyes, something happens inside of him. “I know I do.”

“You do?” August asks, a wealth of expectation in his eyes. Fox nods softly, feeling the familiar magnetic pull of affection and desire.

“Were you lonely…” August begins, his thumb tracing over Fox’s palm. “Over Christmas, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Fox sighs. Their eyes settle together. “I missed England.”

“Only England?” he asks. Once again the air crackles with energy between them.

“Well...no.” Fox exhales a heavy breath. Despite the path that their friendship has taken, it’s still hard to be this vulnerable with another man. “I missed you…” 

“Why?” His whisper makes Fox’s scalp tingle. 

“Well, we’re friends…” He begins, his eyes flicker down to August’s mouth. “But also…” He drifts off, unable to finish his thought. Something sparks in August’s eyes.

It becomes clear now, he’s going to kiss August.

This kiss is richer than the last one, sweeter. They take their time. Soft. Unhurried. When August touches his tongue to his bottom lip, he opens his mouth. They kiss, and he is surprised at how good it feels. How right. The tip of his tongue finds sweetness but seeks for something more. August kisses him with an affection that he has never known before. He wants more.

 

“Come on…” Fox says, pulling August off of the couch. He leads his roommate to his bedroom, pinkies linked.

“I thought of you every day,” he mumbles, tugging August against him. “Everyday.” 

“Me too,” August says, his eyes as warm and dark as morning tea. 

They lie face to face on his bed. Their mouths cling and release again and again. Their passion builds. A thought pops into his mind, as August greedily pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Are you sure?” Fox asks. “I mean, so soon after your grandfather… I don’t want…”

“Shh… I don’t want to think about that. I want to forget,” August’s mouth finds, Fox’s jaw, his ear. “Make me forget.”

His ardor rises. 

When August begins to pull his mouth away, Fox greedily chases it with his own. When he puts his hand against Fox’s chest he stops. 

“Do you want me?”

“Yes.” He says, kissing August’s jaw, enjoying the way his stubble tickles his lips. Clasping his wrists, August forces him to look into his eyes.

“Then show me.” A whisper. In his lust addled brain, Fox remembers his own selfishness. His unwillingness to see the truth of what they are to each other. 

Something within him has changed.

Never in his wildest dreams did he believe that he would fall for another man. 

Until August.

“I want you.” A raw growl ripped from his throat. Anxious to see the marble sculpture that is August, Fox tugs his sweater free. Adonis. David. His lifeblood swells. “Ah, I want you.” 

Shucking his own shirt. Skin against skin. His teeth find August’s nipple, a soft bite. A sharp intake of breath. Sucking it between his lips, soothing the tender nipple with his tongue. His skin is smooth, softer than he expected. Yet still firm under his touch. 

The way his chest heaves. The tip of his tongue draws a line over his friend’s sternum. A low groan spurs him on further. Laving the line of his Adonis belt. Down. Down. Until he meets the apex of his thighs. His mouth follows the trail of sparse hair. Down. Down. The point of no return. 

The energy within him thrums. With each moan from August, the synapses of his lust addled brain fire over and over. He wants to make him feel good. Pleasure him. Pressing his face against August’s swollen cock, he feels the heat. It twitches against his cheek. 

He stops.

“Fox…” His voice is choked with lust, with arousal. “Are you sure about this?”

Up until now, he has only performed this intimate act on women. He had always delighted in pleasuring his partners; reveling in the taste and feel of a clit quivering under his tongue. It made him impossibly aroused.

Is it possible that he could enjoy pleasuring August just as much?

Even his own inexperience and nervousness can not eclipse the wealth of desire and affection he feels for August. August with his warmth, his generous mouth, his heart.

“Yes. I’m sure.” His voice is soft but clear. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, his fingers hover over his friend’s belt buckle.

“It’s alright if you just go slow.” August brings Fox’s hand to his lips. “We have no schedule to keep.”

“Okay,” he breathes a sigh of relief. Ever so slowly sliding the zipper down, his knuckles brush against August’s clothed length. But this time, he doesn’t pull his hand away.

August’s pants pool around his ankles now revealing a dark stain of desire on his boxer briefs. If Fox weren’t already aroused, he would be now. The scent of masculine arousal fills him, up spurs him on. Blood rushes to his groin. Swirling his tongue over the wet spot, the musky taste of August’s arousal awakens his tongue. He needs more.

“Fox,” August chokes, his eyes dark, smoldering with sex. 

Carefully easing the elastic over August’s golden hips, the evidence of his arousal bounds up against his stomach. Fox gasps. There it is. Uncircumcised, bent, and ruddy, full of his life-blood. Overwhelmed by the sight of August’s prick, he pauses to lick his lips. Fox watches in awe as another pearlescent bead of arousal appears, an unmistakable sign of his the other man’s desire. For him. 

“I’m not exactly a pro at this.” Nerves and anticipation swirl through his body, as he runs a solitary finger over steely flesh. “So you may have to walk me through it.” 

“Don’t worry,” August’s hand comes to cup his cheek. “You’re doing just fine.”

The blood rushes in his ears. With slight hesitation, his mouth descends. His lips burn with desire as they meet August’s naked flesh for the first time. A different kind of kiss. 

He tastes salty smooth skin, virility, August. 

Darting his tongue out, he gathers the beads of arousal and sucks them into his mouth. August’s deep moan vibrates his lips. Their eyes meet before he takes a bit more into his mouth. The wholly new sensation almost overwhelms him. He estimates that August is a bit girthier than he is, and thus he opens his jaw wider to accommodate him. Slow. Slow. He allows the firm collum of flesh further into his mouth.

Unexpectedly August thrusts forward, nearly hitting the back of his throat. The surprise catches him off guard.

“Oy, sorry,” he says. Filling Fox’s mouth with his prick. “It just feels so good.” 

“It’s okay,” he hums through a mouthful of cock.

His tongue draws a line up the shaft. For a moment, he pauses to consider how to proceed. Perhaps he should attempt to recreate what has felt so good to him in the past? He hollows his cheeks, attempting to create a delicious suction around his flesh. On the upstroke, his teeth accidentally scrape on the foreskin. August sucks in a breath.

“Oy, careful there.”

“Sorry…” Fox blushes hotly. 

“I don’t expect you to be a whiz at it on your first go,” August chuckles lightly. “But I’m a bit more sensitive on this bit here,” he says pointing to his foreskin. “And lick your lips while you go, that’ll make it easier.”

“Okay, I think I can do that.” Fox laves over the sensitive skin, soothing the silky flesh with his tongue.

“Ah,” August whimpers. “See, you just need a bit of practice.”

Finally, Fox finds a rhythm with his mouth. Up and down. Every so often wetting his lips, or swirling his tongue around the firm flesh. August’s persistent moaning is making him unbearably aroused. Looking for relief, he reaches down to squeeze his own erection.

“This is… “ August strokes his hair. “This is making you hard?” 

“Yes, yes,” he breathes before swallowing his prick to the hilt. On the upstroke, he flicks his tongue against the frenulum. Swollen lips buzz with a delicious burn. “But this is about you, not me.” 

“Oh, oh.” August’s voice is on edge, his body tense. Muscular thighs quake as his prick pulses against Fox’s tongue. It will be soon. 

He wants it for him.

“I want you to come in my mouth,” Fox says before swallowing his friend’s hot flesh. August writhes in pleasure. “Will you come?” he says, popping his mouth off of August’s quivering cock. POP. 

“Fuck,” August grunts, desperate. Fox watches in awe, eager to see this glorious moment erupt in front of his eyes. August’s Adonis belt muscles tighten and his balls contract. “Fox, oh, Fox,” he cries out, spurting, no exploding into his swollen mouth. Not knowing what else to do Fox swallows again and again. Gasping and sputtering as he attempts to take it all in.

Their eyes lock. The intensity and intimacy of the moment is not lost on either of them.

“Did I do okay?” he asks, looking into his friend’s blissful eyes.

“Oh Fox, that was magnificent.” August tousels Fox’s hair. They kiss. For a moment Fox Mulder feels something like love begin to wrap its warm arms around him.

\---

After class, Fox heads back to their flat eager to see August. When he opens the door he is greeted with a rather unwelcome surprise.

“Fox,” Phoebe says, smiling up at him from the couch. Ice creeps through his veins at the sound of his name on her tongue.

Glacier blue eyes pierce right through him, just like always. Only this time, he doesn’t find them as alluring as he used to.

“Phoebe… what are you doing here?” The words escape through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry about what happened. I want to make it up to you.” It would be easy to mistake the softness of her voice as repentance, but now he knows better.

“I don’t want you to make it up to me.” Fox does his best to be firm, to not let any weakness show. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“I’ve really made a mess of things.” A lone manipulative tear escapes from her eye. “I’ve thought about what you said,” she pauses to take his hand. “And I’ve decided to seek some help. I’ve made an appointment with a psychotherapist.”

Fox looks down at his hands, considering her words carefully. Naturally open and trusting, his first inclination is to believe her. But he’s been hurt too many times.

“I miss you.” Her voice is choked, full of emotion. His head falls into his hands. “Don’t you miss me?”

It almost works.

“There is a part of me that does,” he says forcing himself to meet her eyes. A swell of resentment bubbles up. “But I don’t miss being jerked around. Mislead.”

Phoebe draws closer to him, invading his personal space.“But surely you miss the sex?” she husks into his ear. Instead of turning him on, her wiley tactics actually repulse him.

 

“Actually, I don’t,” he says tersely, moving further away from her.

All of a sudden, he hears the lock turn. When his eyes meet August’s his heart drops. He pushes Phoebe off of him as quickly as he can.

“Fox!” The hurt and shock are evident in his voice. His keys drop to the floor. “What is she doing here?” A look of utter heartbreak befalls his handsome features. 

“Just paying an old friend a visit,” she says too casually. 

“It’s not what it looks like, Aug…” he sputters, crushed by the pain in August’s eyes. “She was here when I got home…” God, he needs to save this and fast. “I was just telling her to leave,” Fox grits tersely at her.

“I thought you were…” August gulps. “You said that you were through with her. And now, you’ve just made a fool of me.”

“No, it’s not like that.” Fox reaches for his arm, but August shrugs him off. Phoebe sits back and takes in the scene before her. The wheels of her mind turn almost visibly.

“No… I’m not doing this again with you… I’m not!” With that August slams the door in his face. 

“Oh he seems rather upset…” There is a an unmistakable hint of glee in her voice.

“You need to leave, Phoebe,” Fox says in a quiet voice. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?” 

“So tell me…” she raises a keen eyebrow towards him. “Are you shagging him?”

“What?!?!” His eyes nearly bug out of his head. 

“Ahh,” her lips turn up in a Cheshire grin. “I see. I can’t say I’m surprised. It was always so obvious that he fancied you. Can’t say I blame him, poor chap. But, I never in my wildest dreams thought that you’d _ _reciprocate__ …”

He turns to glare at her, “My friendship with August is none of your business, Phoebe.” 

More than friends, less than lovers, and Phoebe may have just ruined even that.

“Ahh, it’s just as well I suppose. These schoolboy crushes never last anyway.” Her tone is dismissive. He wants to disavow her of this notion. To tell her that August means more to him than just a silly schoolboy crush. But, as much as he wants to tell her the truth, he wants to keep this just between him and August. Gathering her coat she heads towards the door. “All these public schoolboys have a few dalliances while there at school. “Just call me when you have it out of your system.”

He slams the door open, nearly taking it off the hinges.

“Just. Get. Out!” 

\---

Phoebe’s words roll around in his head; __“Just call me when you get it out of your system.”__

He bristles at her assumption, her callous flippancy about his feelings. Did she always treat me this way? He wonders as he bends down to quickly tie his lace-up sneakers. His feet hit the pavement, both soothing and amping up his anxiety. His desire to find August, to try and explain everything to him.

Would August go to the gym? The pub? The library? Maybe somewhere they had been before together? Dusk settles on his skin as he rounds the cobblestone street just outside of “The Turf” wondering if perhaps he might find August in that spot. 

When he sees August, he is sitting with his back up against a tree, his usual silver flask in hand. His eyes are red-rimmed. A hard cold stone drops into his stomach.

“You here to tell me you’re going back to her?” His voice is rough, red anger wrapping around the open wound of his pain. Fox knows this feeling deep in his bones, he lives with it every day, his constant companion. “That this was fun and all, but you were just biding your time until she decided she wanted you again?”

“No… I swear to you...” he begins, his voice soft, but his roommate cuts him off.

“No! No! You don’t get to decide for me this time. I won’t let you!” August stumbles up from the ground to face him. His finger pokes hard into Fox’s chest. “it’s always been about you, don’t you know that? What does Fox Mulder want? He can never quite decide. But what about what I want?” He spits, his voice is raw and righteous. His eyes haunted with a vulnerability that Fox hasn’t seen before. 

“No, that’s not true!” Fox tells him loudly, trying to step closer. August holds his hands out, blocking him.”I have thought about you, but it’s just been so hard…”

“It’s hard for you? What about me? My family has plans for me, expectations. I’ve got to marry a nice English girl, from a posh family. I can’t just be…Don’t you see, you have choices, millions of choices, and I don’t. I never have. Not a single person in my life cares about my happiness, not even you!” August yells, tears of frustration streaming down his face. His words bite, sting his skin like a million needles.

“August… I… I’m sorry. I do care about you. I do!” He says emphatically, trying to make August understand the feelings that he himself has long struggled to understand.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, haven’t you?”

“Look, Phoebe just showed up at the flat uninvited. I was trying to get her to leave when you walked in the door. Nothing happened, I swear to you!”

“Oh, so you’re just that unlucky, huh? How convenient.” August shakes his head and takes another drink, as though the burn of his grandfather’s whiskey could somehow save him. Give him courage. 

“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t choose for her to be there, Phoebe just…”

“What I don’t understand is how you would choose someone who has such disregard for you? Who strings you along like some kind of puppy, and you let her every time. But the thing is, maybe you and I are alike in that way, cause I’ve let you string me along. I’ve let you be so selfish, so callous. He pauses for a long moment, swallowing against his emotions. “But no more. I’m not going to do it anymore.” He punctuates his statement by poking Mulder right in the chest, right in the place where his heartbeats. August’s eyes are wet, but he swallows against his emotions.

“You’re right,” Fox says softly. “Everything you said is right. I haven’t treated you the way you deserve. And I’m sorry.” They look at each other for a long moment. “I was an ass. I really was. You have every right to be angry.”

August looks up in surprise, the anger has melted away.

“For a long time, I didn’t couldn’t even understand my own feelings.” Tentatively, he puts a hand on August’s sloping shoulder. Needing to re-establish their now tenuous connection. “I didn’t know what this thing between us meant. I didn’t know if being with you meant that I was… homosexual or maybe something else. Everything seemed upside down for a while,” he pauses to take August’s hand in his. “And you’ve been entirely too patient with me. It’s just, I’ve never felt this way for another man before. You’re the first.”

A moment stretches between them. 

“When I was at school,” August begins, his expression wistful. “There was this other lad...John. He was my first,” he pauses in thought. “Anyway, the headmaster caught us once… behind the field house. He just sorta looked the other way, like he hadn’t seen anything at all. That just how it is, boys have crushes on other boys, but once you get older, you’ve got to marry a nice girl from a good family. And I thought I would do that too but...” His voice holds a note of sadness now, of vulnerability. 

“Aug…” Finally, Fox pulls his friend tightly to his chest, the one person who has been there for him through thick and thin. He feels the gasping sobs emanating from August’s chest. It makes him want to cry too, to somehow make everything better. He pulls away from August for a moment to look into his face. Fox wipes the tears from his roommate’s face with his thumb. “You’re good, you’re so good to me.” A kiss to his salty cheek. August’s eyes shine for a moment. 

“I remember when you first said that to me. It was the night you…”

“Yes. That was the first night I kissed you. For a long time, I tried to forget the way kissing you made me feel.” He stops now, cupping August’s face in his hands. “I tried everything to stop myself from feeling that way about you. I denied it at every turn. But August, it had nothing to do with you. I wasn’t running away from you as much as I was running away from myself. And I wish that I hadn’t hurt you while I was trying to figure this out. But maybe that’s something you should know about me. I always push people away when they get too close. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Then don’t. Don’t do it this time,” August whispers.

“Look August, I don’t know what the future holds for us. But I do know that I want you, and I’m so tired of pretending that I don’t. So if you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you…” All of a sudden August captures his lips in a searing kiss. One unlike any of the previous kisses they have shared. It steals the breath from his lungs. It makes his heart hammer in his chest. 

There in broad daylight, in the middle of the street, they kiss. Neither of them can be bothered with the thought of other people moving around them. All he can see, all he can feel is just August. 

August. 

August. 

August. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this has been such a difficult and amazing journey. This story has meant more to me personally than any other fic I've written. It's been a real labor of love.
> 
> I want to thank each and every one of you for taking a chance on August, and the idea of a bi-sexual Mulder. I can't help but think that this story could live on in a different form, but for now, I'm leaving Fox and August with a happy ending. 
> 
> Ending this fic is really bittersweet for me, so any words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, leave a comment. That would really butter my muffin.


End file.
